LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Shelf ..Y2l.l5 (H 5 

^ L53^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



CLASSICAL POEMS. 



BY 



y 



WILLIAM ENTRIKEN BAILY. 



Hoc est 
Vivere bis, vita posse priore friii. 

— Martial 




ROBERT CLARKE & CO. 

CINCINNATI, O 
1892. 



QJ' 



Copyright, 1891. by William Entriken Baily. 



PREFACE. 



It may be well to refer to some of the conditions by which the 
essential number of the poems in this book has been produced. 
Though they are not all classical in subjects, yet those that are not 
are often classical in spirit, as well as lyrical. They owe their or- 
igin first, to temperamental characteristics ; secondly, to the animus 
of a great deal of what constitutes orthodox English poetry, as found 
in the pages of Shakespeare, Milton, Collins, Keats, Words- 
worth and Tennyson, with, perhaps, influences at work from 
Shelley and his school. The undercurrent of meaning of the 
poems, in many cases, is didactic, as much so (if not more) as cer- 
tain passages in Spenser's " Fairy Queen." It has been shown by 
eminent critics on both sides of the Atlantic that this is a false 
principle in the art of verse ; on the contrary, it has been shown by 
other eminent critics that it is a true one. If a reader of an epic 
feels that its strain, its intellectual tenor, its grouping of noble 
characters for instructive effects, its subtile agreements with the 
finer elements of civilization perpetually in play (that have been 
taught the author by the philosophers, moralists and theologians 
of his time), and the occasional free display of them in the course 
of the story, are of the didactic kind, his feelings must certainly 
be a judge to himself in the matter, but not to others. His emo- 
tions naturally appropriate to themselves what supports the nature 
of their instincts, this nature having perhaps an entirely different 
bias in another reader, and thus the two are unable to feel and see 
in a like manner, not only in the perusal of an epic, but also of a 
drama at its best. Two able readers, of unlike bent in appreci- 
ation, may write in combination a critique on an epic, and do it 
justice; but it often takes four to write one on a drama with the 
same result, because the elements in it are of a more complex order. 

(iii) 



IV PREFACE. 

It inclines, even in its tragic form, to the pleasurable in a more 
obvious way. Notwithstanding that Shakespeare represents the 
spirit of the troubadour in his plays — plays most especially ad- 
dressed to the courtiers, the pedants, the pleasure-seekers and the 
men-about-town of his day — the didactic, mingled with the real 
and the ideal, is frequently presenting itself; notably in his apho- 
risms, in his numerous outlines suggesting the moral artist, in his 
use of what is called poetic justice, in his ethical tendencies as a 
whole (above those of other dramatists of his time), and in his 
sense of responsibility to the higher consciousness of humanity. In 
John Milton we find the spirit of the Puritan — a spirit that easily 
adjusted itself to what is harsh and doctrinal in life and religion, 
for the scholastic spirit to take up and form into a long narrative 
poem of undoubted didactic type. He was too much of a scholar 
and a man of genius not to know the value of art in clothing his 
doctrines as a mere thinker of common experience; and he was 
too much of a scholar and a man of fine instincts not to know the 
value of Shakespeare to other mere thinkers of the doctrinal class 
would they but see him through the eye of scholarship. His lines 
to the great dramatist are in this respect very significant. We thus 
see in Spenser the didactic is a controlling principle; in Shakes- 
peare it is an occasional, but still a manifest principle ; and in 
John Milton it is, as with Spenser, a controlling principle. Com- 
ing down to Wordsworth, we find it a settled principle with him, 
his name alone suggesting virtue, honor, reverence, duty, love, hu- 
mility, honest poverty, time and fate, abstract qualities holding an 
ever varying relation through his muse to the strictest rules of 
didactics in prosaic life. If a j)hilosophical sect were now formed 
after the manner of some of those of the ancients, having in view 
the mere teaching of moral laws, it would without a doubt derive 
much help, not only from Wordsworth, but also from many of 
his poetical contemporaries and successors in point of lime who 
have the beautiful before them, yet who show, unconsciously, a 
presence — a main idea or a stray idea — in their poems akin to the 
inculcation of a precept or precepts. The love of certain higher 



PREFACE. V 

attributes in man leads to an idealization of them in statuary and 
painting ; and to say that poetry of the beautiful should ignore 
such attributes, is to say that it is inferior in its mission to stat- 
uary and painting — is to ascribe to it an inherent tone of weak- 
ness — is to charge it with inability to embody with itself the fact 
that this age is pre-eminently didactic in its drift. As for the suc- 
cessful expression of the beautiful, with its impalpable essence, no 
other century, not excepting the Elizabethan era, equals the pres- 
ent one in its list of poems. Such writers as Keats, Shelley and 
Tennyson have given to the English-speaking world examples in 
this respect very difficult to surpass. The poet-laureate, in par- 
ticular, has an influence over his readers through a mastered craft 
that sublimates whatever it touches, and that tends to add to their 
perceptions of the noble and to broaden their existence in a wise 
way. In this regard, and in others, he takes a decided superiority 
over either Shelley or Keats, and holds strong connections with 
Wordsworth and Milton, also with Spenser in an esthetic way. 
It thus can be seen the system of poetry has for one of its prime 
resources the didactic, infusing into its work, as it does, elements 
of usefulness, reality and strength. A moral meaning may be pre- 
sented so as to impress its purpose too emphatically; then it tends 
not to high art — it tends to utility for utility's sake — to the ground 
where prose wears the mask of rhyme. In a true poem, some 
essential fact of life, the soul of the piece, reveals itself in an unity 
of details, the fact losing itself apparently in the details at times, 
but in its impression as a whole it is effective in inducing a frame 
of mind in the reader more favorable to its cause than in a single 
rigorous disclosure of itself. In this case the charm and the lesson 
go hand-in-hand, and the Powers that rule over the destiny of 
poetry are generally satisfied. 

In offering these explanations, it is with no desire to make cer- 
tain ideas in a matter of art obtrusive, but with a desire to supply 
information that in its absence might make the poems herein 
printed seem to be without a key, holding as they do relations to 
English literature of a kind indicated. W. E. B. 



INDEX TO POEMS. 



PAGE. 

Prelude 9 

The Queen of Dreamland '^ 

The Hero and the Wife 20 

TT 28 

Horace 

The Choice of Alcides 34 

The City in Ruins 42 

Down Amid the Shadows 4^ 

The Plato of the Town 49 

The Recluse 53 

The Insistence of Nature S^ 

Tempus Fugit 59 

Stepping-Stones : 3 

Sleep ■" ' 

Old Age 72 

Beauty • ^^4 

Aurora ' 

Adversity ^9 

Fate and Prophecy -• ^° 

May 8° 

The Sybarite ^^ 

The Birth of Venus ■• ^3 

Pomona 5 

My Lady ^7 

At Sea ^9 

The Caged Bird 9^ 

The Royal Road 93 

The Appian Way 95 

The Statue 97 

The Island ^°^ 

Before and After the Voyage ^°7 

(vii) 



PRELUDE. 

What blissfulness 'twould be Apollo's lyre 

To hear at June's bright dawn, by night's star-fire, 

As come and go life's vagaries ! Replete 

With sounds that charm would be the matchless feat 
To form web-works of tone ! The high-born choir, 
Who sing through time, whose harmonies inspire 

Fancy's ardency, aspiration meet, 

Courage, nobleness, sympathies concrete, 
How they seem demi-gods ! Them modify 

Hope's own art ever breathing in control, 
She through them speaking; for each death-dull eye 

She wakes, bids lips partake from her strange bowl, 
Emboldens hands to strive, man's strength to ply 

To gain the power that was Apollo's soul. 



(ix) 



€IiASSICAIi POEMS 

THE QUEEN OF DREAMLAND. 



T DREAMED. — Venus approached with languid air. 
More near she seemed as one full meet to dwell 
In ideal realms encrowned with honors rare 

'Mong Fancy's spirits deemed ineffable ; 
Yet made her footsteps prints upon the sand ; 
They proved a being true of Day's Dreamland. 

II. 

A palace stood anear; it was a pile 

That covered acres with majestic weight; 

Its marble art was of a simple style; 

On roofs were domes, each with an ancient trait, 

As gleaming roses swayed in urns anear, 

And odored well the summer atmosphere. 

III. 

Had outlooks wide high windows here and there 
Upon green dales and distant mountain points ; 

Portals the facade graced with arches rare, 
Their brazen hinges shining in the joints ; 

Long porticos there stood that mildly shed 

Their column-shades on steps that upward spread. 

(") 



12 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

IV. 
Venus moved on with head inclining low, 

Nearing a portal dark. She was alone; 
She mused, and feared awhile within to go ; 

The deep, dim hall with kind and welcome tone 
No entrance bade — 't was as a dismal dell 
Repulsed her with a strange, foreboding spell. 

V. 

She onward moves ere long; stops in amaze; 

Harkens as if she saw with startled ken ; 
Observes the pictured walls, great clouds ablaze 

With Jove's stern darts hurled from his thund'rous den 
But soon she drops her maiden veil of fears, 
And bears a courage of a matron's years. 

VI. 

Anon she treads a stairway, thence to pass 

Into a hall before. Herein salutes 
The eye a bright display of central glass — 

On ceiling broad a dome. Sol mildly shoots 
Enkindling gleams through panes, with emblems spread, 
That show what might to vesper orbs is wed. 

VII. 

Ceilings of cedar wood adorn the place 

(Contrived with skill to show the artist's dye), 

Whereon true genius has depicted grace 
In figures formed Jove's dreams to glorify. 

Floating bubbles are borne from cherubs fair, 

As others range with self-oblivious air. 



-THE QUEEN OF DREAMLAND. 13 

VTll. 

Below are pendent apples o'er a stream 

Upon a tree all silver-wet with dew; 
And from bent boughs fall to the current's gleam, 

The heaviest the cherubs by to woo; 
These see the fruitage swimming in the tide, 
And vie to gather up the best espied. 

IX. 

She marks about the statue-figures spread 
Upon the floor. Anon her breath is slow ; 

She feels as if she from herself has fled 
And soul-fit mysteries upon her flow ; 

It is so rare to gaze and be unknown 

Among such shapes endowed with subtile tone. 

X. 

Ere long she leaves behind the spell-like hall, 
And gains a distant aisle, egress to make ; 

Her silent footsteps move beside a wall 

Massive with stones too firm for Time to shake; 

A winding passage guides toward a court. 

Where fowls tame-bred and mortal forms consort. 

XI. 

A tranquil court it is wherein a bird 

Might lull itself to sleep at warm mid-day ; 

Where marble brims reflecting baths engird 
Under cool canopies ; where alcoves gay 

Hold forth soft seats on which young drowsy Thought 

Can range in Dreamland with old romance fraught. 



14 CLASSICAL POEMS. 



XII. 



About the open space irregular 

Rise roof-crowned walls, whose shades unite with shades; 
Nor do below they noontide gleams debar 

From touching marble steps to long arcades ; 
A just degree of light and shade controls, 
And with mild means the atmosphere consoles. 

XITI. 

Above is seen a row of galleries. 

Where curtains white, wind-blown, exhibit faces 
And hands embroidering ; deep balconies, 

With tiers of shelves on which are Grecian vases, 
Whose plant o'er plant have colors fresh and gay, 
Like pageantry of Fairyland's display. 

XIV. 

The turde-dove about the court is seen 

To hover here and there with wings broadspread ; 

A peacock bright expands his plumage green. 
Admiration to gain from folks ahead ; 

And 'mong all those he meets reclining by 

No scorn upon a brow he can descry. 

XV. 

Venus three doves beholds. They near her oft 

Fly with capricious yet regardful ways; 
As prudent bees around June's bushes soft 

Dally before they setde on their sprays. 
So one by one the birds steal down to rest 
And breathe a welcome on the stranger-guest. 



THE QUEEN OE DREAMLAND. 15 

XVI. 

The folks first see her by a pillar's shade; 

Murmurs besiege her ear; from doorways nigh 
Come comrade-forms with those from some arcade 

About her gather all ; part to apply 
Numerous queries, handing back her words 
To outer heads whose eagerness engirds. 

XVII. 

She not reluctant leads them to inquire 

About a realm afar, with civic din 
Of man disturbed ; about a monarch's ire 

Whose laws unjust stand much opposed. To win 
Their sympathy, she meekly then alludes 
Unto herself, and o'er a sorrow broods. 

XVIII. 

The monarch with a strange and mad uproar 
Had made her breast of late to dolor prone ; 

Had scowled and grudged her rights; and now no more 
She cares to dwell at home until had flown 

A time of pilgrimage, when smoothly laid 

Might be his rage with reason's sober aid. 

XIX. 

Her guileless story has a mellow power 
To place deep confidence in every heart ; 

Each excellence of mind becomes her dower 
Viewed through the glamor of befriending art; 

And all her hearers to warm fancies yield, 

That hint of much in her heart's depth concealed. 



1 6 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

XX. 

At last the folks disperse ; with ling'ring throb 
They muse; and as slow-rolling drops of dew 

Unite (and from themselves their forms do rob) 
With fellow-ones upon a violet blue, 

So emotions unite, with zeal o'errun, 

And swell to bounds from various bosoms won. 

XXI. 

Unto meek Venus they w^ith tongues serene 
Due homage pay. Anon expressions flow 

To favor her with prestige of a queen, 
On her a gentle weight of glory throw ; 

They feel she is a ruler to maintain 

The honors of a future golden reign. 

XXII. 

Before to them she was a mere surmise ; 

To life most real she is committed now — 
Transfigured all ! — a being claiming ties 

With ideal worlds, thus gifted to endow 
A multitude of souls in Day's Dreamland, 
Busy with deeds, with inner guidance grand. 

XXIII. 

At last at twilight hour courtiers reveal 
To her their purpose, saying that awaits 

For her a sceptered right to rule their weal, 
Abating from themselves superior traits 

With urbane art in order to make less 

Seem to herself her own unworthiness. 



THE QUEEN OF DREAMLAND. 17 

XXIV. 

A bard steps forth, his visage grave and old; 

Long locks of white upon his shoulders roll; 
His minstrel-hand is oft inspired to hold 

The harp to notes concordant with the soul • 
His voice ascending o'er the swaying heads 
Softly entreats and warm impressions spreads. 

XXV. 

Venus confused with much ado demurs ; 

Resorts to argument to help her cause ; 
Unto her budding youth she next refers ; 

This failing, she aloof alone withdraws : 
Some follow her; she tries with words to foil; 
But their deep love she doth with sense entoil. 

XXVI. 

They urge with courteous tact; some call her cold, 
Augment their accents low with fertile fears ; 

Their melancholy shades increase two-fold : 
Feelings acute express themselves in tears ; 

All move engirdled by a magic spell, 

On whose sweet cause they fondly, strangely dwell. 

XXVII. 

They tell her of a prophet who had told 

That she would come at last to be their (jueen ; 

That Truth in league with Beauty, as of old, 
Was moving still toward a future scene. 

To triumph o'er the world's debarring years. 

Ties to divulge 'tween this and higher spheres. 



1 8 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

XXVIII. 

Venus in time, with motive half aware 
Of self, consents. Assuming honors new 

With chiding doubt, bemasks a pallor rare 

The roses of her cheek. She trembles through 

As tongues the tidings bear. Now won the cause, 

The court resounds with clamor and applause. 

XXIX. 

What happiness betrays each eager face I 

Sweet flutes play on ! Ye instruments more gay, 

Breathe all your harmony about the place ! 
Meek Venus now retires and fades away 

To wait to-morrow's ceremonial grand ; 

Therefore, glad tones, your utmost skill expand ! 

XXX. 

To-morrow comes. In dome-crowned hall appear 
A noble throng beside a purple throne ; 

A semi-circle vast of people near ; 

Behind them maidens rare, all sweetly known 

(As blushes on their cheeks most softly charm) 

To youths hard by, with badges on each arm. 

XXXI. 

Some boys confront Venus upon the throne ; 

Each holds a silver harp of fervent strings. 
Revealing limitations of its tone, 

That bears itself abroad on waning wings ; 
And — sweet succession ! — they a hymn well chant, 
Those minstrel-boys in robes, so jubilant ! 



THE QUEEN OE J^ REAM LAND. 19 

XXXII. 

A score of matrons come in vestments white 
Adovvn an aisle with grace ; each duly shows 

A homage fit the ceremonial rite ; 

They onward move to honored seats in rows ; 

Ascends forthwith the hymn's assuaging chant 

From minstrel-boys in robes, so jubilant ! 

XXXIII. 

Come next a score of elder-men, arrayed 
In cloaks of black ; a leader bears a wreath 

(That soon before the throne is lowly laid) ; 
They turn to seats the glowing dome beneath; 

Ascends forthwith the hymn's assuaging chant 

From minstrel-boys in robes, so jubilant! 

XXXIV. 

Some gleaner-girls in singing then proceed 

To glorify their task with duteous voice, 
Addressed to pow'rs above their aid to plead. 

As all their shining faces well rejoice ; 
Full gratified they rest like sea-shell low. 
Who's found its pearl within dark surges' flow. 

XXXV. 

Venus they then approach; upon her head 

A simple laurel-crown bestows a hand. 
And throngs on throngs a speechless blessing shed 

Upon the maiden Queen of Day's Dreamland, 
Pleading that she with them may long abide 
To rule their weal until Death's eventide. 



20 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

XXXVI. 

Then vows by mortal breasts ascending go; 

Adopt they aims for their alloted days 
Befit true hearts, subjecting flesh full low 

To serve a spirit high, that Truth may raise 
A guardian o'er each golden life that far 
Its worth may shine a clear, enduring star. 

XXXVII. 

Ere long a show'r falls on the outer court, 
But passes soon away ; and mildly then 

A rainbow gay with omen comes athwart, 
Copious seasons foretelling to the ken ; 

And all to future years their faces turn, 

An epoch rich and Beauty there discern. 



THE HERO AND THE WIFE. 

XTE was a Roman of superior form. 

The moment now was come wherein to choose 
This way or that. Distrust prevailed in him, 
Disturbino; homebred sentiments, like hawks 
In orchard causing happy birds of song 
Anxiety. Habit restrained him, too, 
In such a course as now therefrom to break 
Was hard. Yet with an introspective eye 
He saw his tone of self had epic warmth, 
By which it would inspire heroic zeal 
To be a conqueror with trophied trains. 



THE HERO AND THE 117 EE. 21 

The discordance that was within himself 

(As to and fro he swayed among armed men) 

Could not endure annoyance from the hums 

Al)out, when it would have a tranquil hour 

Or so to calm and veer from doubt to hope. 

But as the sun forth shone 'tween clouds, from it 

Influence came, instilling him with aught 

Obscure, profound, transferring by degrees 

Him from that which he scorned to that which he 

Aspired, as through himself emotions moved 

Assured. Referring to ideals of life. 

Long cherished by his memory, he found 

An essence in them all sustaining them 

With beauty and its pow'r and mystery 

Too deep for man. 

Anon he spoke : "The gods 
Demand my services, my country asks 
For them upon the tented field, and comes 
An inspiration moving me to go 
Rewards to have. For earthly dignity 
And crown celestial yearn I tacitly ; 
If victor in the battle's cause, the first 
Is mine, whilst living to enjoy ; if slain. 
The gods approving, faith doth prophesy 
The second's mine. Here linger I and pine 
And older grow, the days fulfilling not 
What me should gratify. Fortune hath led 
Unto satiety in zigzag paths ; 
She made no sacrifice to Happiness ; 



2 2 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

To follow her is sacrilege. My joys — 
Domestic joys — my wife and 1, espoused 
Like April odors fresh to April hues- 
Are faded now. They blossomed forth, then bore 
Sweet fruit, which, tasting o'er and o'er, soon cloyed 
Desire, yet left me hungry for the meat 
That does not come. 'I'is starving nature roused 
That would its stay go seek. Nuptial ties 
Appear entangling by the charm that comes 
From action in a freer life abroad. 
In changes we attain another self. 
With will consenting, then impelling us, 
Tis we subserve the ends of destiny. 
In concord with the mighty ones of yore, 
Who strove along, conquering with an aim 
That found a life through war which few lives know. 
And fame historic afterwards." 

Anon 
CaUing for what the leader of a host 
Would need, he strode among assembling men, 
Breast-plated, ready warfare soon to face. 
They felt that he, their haughty chief, kept step 
\\"\\\\ a pulsation true of what was brave, 
Stern in an experience with the world. 

His wife came slowly forth; surveying him 
She stood, impressing not as she was wont 
With beauty and emotions that disarm 
Men of their wills ; but as a woman sees 



THE HERO AND THE IVIEE. 23 

A woman with an eye that dreads and hates, 
Ashamed to own that it not trusts and loves — 
So he saw her. Embarrassment o'ercame 
Her by degrees, in her arousing doubts 
Foreboding vaguely, then inspiring her 
With energy to chide her lord, sullen, 
Acting as if a stranger to herself. 

She was to him the being of his choice, 
Beside her proud ; away, his sweeter part 
Much missed. Chosen ardently, despite 
Himself, nature propelling him to woo 
With modesty, he now first since their day 
Of wedlock vows, withstood her otherwise. 
She plead to him with eloquence. He heard 
As if to yield to what she asked, in brief 
Disdain of what he felt before, but made 
No answer. She then tried to win with gifts 
The heart pays to the mind; but soon her voice 
Prattled, not reasoned, and aroused his mien 
Of cynicism, beholding her so void 
As not to know him strong, but as him weak — 
Shaming his lofty self with truthfulness. 
Yet he to her was strength. A purpose frail 
In her, a purpose resolute in him, 
Were two, supporting and supported, yet 
Were one in common sympathy that worked 
In married harmony. For a brief while 
She felt the tie was strained and he the cause, 



24 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

And was to snap asunder soon. Then she 

With other words with pensive thoughts thus spoke : 

"Oh, list, my lord! remain with me. What's life 
With thee away ? Let others to the war, 
Less worthy living, dying worthy more ; 
Thy worth maintains itself where'er it is ; 
But theirs not so. Departing hence, thy gain 
Is naught, thy loss domestic bliss. Then cease 
Thy warfare with thyself; it makes me feel 
Thy peril with a woman's fear, not man's, 
And be a husband to thy wife again." 

He looked askance. Silence prevailed, and ere 
Its power waned, he moved in coldness wrapped, 
Seeing with mental eye some inner thing 
That him absorbed. The moments passing by 
Kept her in trembles of suspense ; each was 
So intermingled with mistrust it seemed 
An hour of punishment. At last he turned 
And said: "Why waitest thou?" 

She bowed and wept, 
Such visions playing in her mind as fear 
Provokes in frailty. Yet it was a grief 
Tempered; controlling moods unsettled much. 
It made her prudent in her selfishness — 
Her source of tears. Looking at him ere long. 
The semblance of her husband in a form 
Made bold appeared, who still retaining her 



THt: HERO AND THE IVIEE. 25 

As his heart's paragon — none else for him— 
A nobler self revealed, as slowly came 
A spell that to her intuition showed 
The solemn tenor of true thought in life 
Inspiring him. A conscious rapture spread 
Throughout her pulse in thinking such a one 
Was closest" to her bosom's rare desire, 
And changed her nature higher likes to know. 

Turning he said: " Thou smilest through thy tears! 
But late thy head did hang, lack-lustre was 
Thy glance, and diffident thy manners were ! 
Yet presto! — a change! — thy woe wept tears, 
But now thy joy weeps tears. Perplexes me 
Thy fickleness ; it breaks the link that should 
Unite my comprehension to thyself. — 
But let such matters go ! To comfort thee, 
My wife, the hero's motive ill consorts 
With what the husband's tenderness would say; 
Therefore, me understand, not by that which 
I seem, but by that which I am, no words 
Asking for than from me now comes." 

Futile 
His speech; for she anticipating him, 
Did feel what he wished her to feel — through love, 
A knowledge of himself with lofty pow'rs 
In visible relief. His traits more coarse, 
O'ertopping hers, knew not the part she was 



26 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Unto his flesh, her flesh, in that her mind 
Was subtile, his was dull. 

' ' Lately I would 
Have said. Oh, hard thee to reHnquish ! Now, 
Thy purpose moves in me, and makes me say 
Thy choice of duty reason cheers, and makes 
Me apt in sacrifice thy absence hence 
To bear with a stout will," thus uttered she, 
Deriving added strength from her good lord. 

Working upon his feelings with a fresh 
Congenial mien — with woman's artless skill 
Expressing estimation for himself, 
And love behind it — stood they face to face, 
The hero still supreme, yet softened some, 
Slowly descending to the husband's plane, 
Her patience helping him. Now free to use 
Her will, his nature through with hers refined 
Instilled she with sagacious joyousness, 
Such as to feel a philosopher turns. 

He pressed her to his lips, then backwards stood, 
Observing her as if with reverence. 
Unapt to vent what he would say. At last 
He spoke : ' ' Before we part, I to the war, 
Thou to the loom, to wishes list in thy 
Behalf: I would have thee forever live 
In simple happiness, to household things 



THE HERO AND THE U'lEE. 27 

Attending, leaving duties that were mine 
To manly hands ; I would have thee, if low 
I fall, remember me more in thy heart 
Than in thy mind ; I would have ever fresh 
Thy dews of life in glory of the dawn; 
Thy flow'rs of hope to grow with hues perfumed, 
Thee bidding them ; the fruit of our two loves 
To bear the seed with aught, as ages pass, 
Endowing fame on the parental stock. 
Transplanted then to regions god-ruled o'er." 

He ceased, and not a murmur rose from throa's 
Of men hard by, his followers — silence 
Impressive reigned an interval, that he 
Alone broke with a sigh. Then he, erect. 
With chieftan airs, assumed command of them, 
Now^ forming into ranks, and off all moved, 
They seeming cold as statues, hills anon 
Obscuring them, and distance hushing sounds 
Of trumpet more and more until they died. 

Meanwhile the wife gazed into prospects far 
Whither he had gone, feeling many things 
That woman only knows. Yet with a heart 
Encouraged she consoled a matron's mind. 
Thinking no more of him as one far gone, 
Mayhaps a captive chained — a galley slave — 
A corse and stretched among the chariots' wreck; — 
But as a patriot faithful to a cause ; 
A conqueror severe, yet merciful ; 



28 CLASSICAL I'OEMS. 

A hero coming from ovations fresh, 
Loaded with spoils and emblems gained, the hum 
Of heralds him before to tell the tale — 
Fulfillment honored had endeavors brave. 

'Twas thus to war he went on Roman soil. 
And striving won, not by denying self 
Examples to the mind of what was great, 
But by a timely use of them. 



HORACE. 



TTORACE, thou scribe of yore ! — what wisdom taught 

Thy methods slow ! — how well at times indeed 
Couldst thou passions console unduly fraught 

With yearnings false for fickle Fortune's meed ! 
Although of pagan creed, yet was thy mind 
Accordant with the truth as then defined. 

II. 

Among thy Sabine fields, where beat Time's heart 

As even now, imparting to the frame 
Of things a warmth occult which, made them start 

Into outlines that reached ere blight their aim. 
How breathed thy harp those sounds that not as yet 
Have reached an end to pay a mortal debt ! 



HORACE. 

III. 

They breathe content, attended by a charm, 
Impressing bosoms with a happy thrill. 

No sudden woes within can do much harm 
If minds forlorn yield to thy Orphean skill. 

What was to thee thy life's most humble share ? — 

What was to thee the daunt in Fortune's air? 

IV. 

Exemplar thou, O schoolman in the dark ! 

Thy praise of Poverty, her wholesome store, 
Was worthy of thy philosophic ark, 

That on a flood of years a species bore 
To live — consigning to an English soil 
The true origins of thy midnight oil. 

V. 

Now these o'rigins, much increased, are here. 

Where English ships once fixed their standards bold, 

But not 'tis feared at times with atmosphere 

Most proper for their vogue ; they, deemed too 'old, 

Are left to lie about the bookworm's room, 

Fit subjects for the negligence of gloom. 

VI. 

A volume worn, transcribed by scribe adept, 
The eye observed one day within a chest, 

That a sea-captain had in storage kept 

For years and years as he on ocean's breast 

Had voyaged to and fro ; perhaps at times 

To pause and read the book's engaging rhymes. 



29 



30 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

VII. 

Page after page was turned — to read of eagerness 
Peculiar to thy youth; how thee imbued 

With tact thy sire ; of thy apparent meagreness 
Of will when facing Maecenas ; how sued 

Thy city friends for news ; of that bore slow, 

At last from whom thee rescued Apollo. 

VIII. 

A rural picture soon with faithful hue 
Itself revealed ; it caused in turn desire 

To mingle with the represented view, 
Evoking well attention to admire, 

An oaken woods upon old Roman ground, 

Where depths beguiled to depths in silence bound. 

IX. 

Ere long the pages spread another scene. 
Holding the mind bewitched a happy date. 

A Summer hour moved by; it was serene 
Like river that no bowlders agitate. 

A-something in the mood a vision bore — 

The Shadow-Land of Calm was near before. 

X. 

Absorbed, the thoughts were roused at last to see 
A place where man is classic heritor 

Of ideas pure — a place wherein to be 
A spirit comes a joy to minister : 

A royal road, full easy to pursue. 

Led forth a world within a world to view. 



HORACE. 3 

XI. 

About its entrance paused a guardian-hand, 
Aright to urge ; its nearer presence filled 

With strange surmises vain a period spanned 
With mystery; it mildly then instilled 

A honey-comfort for the soul's own hive, 

In barren months to keep its strength alive. 

XII. 

Shade shaded shade. It was a land of peace. 

Roamed scores therein turned from the paltry aims 
Of markets of the world, wherein increase 

The resdess throngs as Mammon bold declaims — 
A land of laurels partly to seclude 
Great potent minds who dream in solitude. 

xiir. 
Light chastened light. A scene irregular 

About was. Mingled comrades, low and high, 
In widespread groves; talked they in groups afar 

In sympathy conducing to affy. 
A sage imparted wisdomi to a class 
That circling sat upon the matted grass. 

XIV. 

Socrates was a god above the rest. 

The soul's the mind's mind he foretells to all. 
They with mild queries by and by request 

That he explain man's dim eventual Fall — 
What scenes succeed its frosty dearth of days ; 
They dread some doom, but he this dread allays. 



32 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

XV. 

Plato, with parchment in his hand, stood by; 

His brow sagacious turned to thoughts akin 
To excellence ; a-something in his eye 

An inner vigor marked ; he seemed a twin 
Of marble statue dowered with a grace 
That shows a spirit depth upon its face. 

XVI. 

Goethe thus spoke in brief: Man often yearns 
For peace that comes from dwelling in a state 

Of sweetness, truth and beauty ; he discerns, 

Through worldly mists, the means that hold this fate; 

A growth within attains, but it defied 

Defies the means that make life's outlook wide. 

XVII. 

Richter serene, reclining in a shade. 

Spoke fitting words unto a humble few; 
His melancholy voice gave earnest aid, 

Adjuring one, whose youth attention drew, 
Not to dethrone his strength — to be in age 
A slave, his passions master strife to wage. 

XVIII. 

Others were there whose deep philosophy 
Is found in prose, who lowly labored yet 

To raise responsive manhood up to see 

A breadth the globe gives not. There, too, were met 

Those bards whose virtues rare and fife-like grace 

Still soothe the captains of our marching race. 



HORACE. , 

XIX. 
Virgil went slowly down a silent way, 

Now in a shade, now in a flood of gleam, 
As if not prone his presence to betray, 

Perhaps begtiiled by some part spectral dream: 
Bent on seclusion, he retired anon 
To write his tablet on of Acheron. 

XX. 

Dante sedate, on rough and devious route, 
Moved on behind as if he upward saw 

A vision in the air. His lips gave out 

Vague mutterings. He seemed a priest to awe; 

But there was that within his solemn mien 

That courted sympathy from bosoms keen. 

XXI. 

Shakespeare, to whom a poet-throng deferred, 
Stood by; his fellowship kind favors gave 

With triple pow'r of look, of grasp, of word — 
In gifts a king, in modesty a slave. 

His central presence soon strolled off ahead, 

Remained impressions courting all instead. 

XXII. 

Enrobed in cloth of Puritanic hue, 

Milton was gravest 'mong the grave ; before 

Him Wordsworth stood, exchanging view for view. 
As if to catch the fullness of his lore ; 

This, rich in eloquence, combined to cause 

His eager hearer on and on to pause. 



34 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

XXIII. 

Others presided on a knoll, a heap 

With roses strewed, a bank where melody 

Of brooklets babbled by, or iti the deep 
Of distance — all endowed most righteously 

To give repose and growth and moral store 

Within the Shadow-Land of Calm before. 



THE CHOICE OF ALCIDES.^^ 

A LCIDES, once of Greece, to manhood grown, 

Still felt arouse the passions of his youth. 
Hence he beheld first painted life with hues 
Of brilliance false; then sober life with hues 
Of reality — or pleasure's road before, 
With virtue's nigh. Which to pursue a doubt 
Left him no ready choice ; and thus perplexed 
He moved as one half-lost, solace to seek 
Among shade-trees deep in a silent vale. 
As thought suggested thought, his mind went through 
A fruitless course. At last fatigued he gazed 
About the area of the vale. It was 
A day when Nature fills the atmosphere 
With odors of her blooms enclosed in depths, 

"•■•The suggestion for this poem was found in a translation from Prodi- 
cus, a Greek poet, bv Robert Lowth, an English author of distinction of 
the i8th Century. 



THE CHOICE OE ALCIDES. ^ 

Making the footsteps for their beauty search. 

On such a quest, emotions to distract 

From what they bore to what they wished to bear, 

He saw approaching near two figures robed 

In vestures feminine. The one had grace 

With gravity ; the other comeUness 

With merriment. With stately mien the first 

Impressed as having that within herself 

Better than that of show without; that moved 

Less admiration than respect, and more 

Content thd.n fancy's fervency. The next, 

Not modest like her mate, came forth with step 

Affected by the movements of her thoughts, 

Unguided by true woman's tact, or depth 

Of will, or finer feelings proud of what 

They do aright, ashamed of what they do 

Amiss. As if the other to outdo 

In forwardness, she Alcides addressed. 

"Alcides," uttered she, "thy dolesomeness 
Cast off as thou wouldst a cloak of black 
Ill-fitting thee, and come with me to lead. 
What's foreign to thy nature. Oh, dislike! 
Know pleasure is emotion's realm; a king 
Can have no more. Joy in the senses dwells; 
Encourage it to roam at liberty 
In paradise of youth's desire — with youth 
Brimful of wine, mid festal company, 
And shouts and laughter and Apollo's strains. 
Doubt comes from thought, perturbation from toil; 



36 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Cavil attends him who endeavors well ; 

Merit is honored most when having least; 

Climb not that road of thorns and stones — renown ; 

A life in warfare waged hath wounds and death. 

Follovvest thou that way or this ? — this way, 

My way, proceeding to tranquiUty, 

Amid profusion proffering every sweet ? 

There fragrance woos as incense of the dawn ; 

There turtle-doves will tamely visit thee ; 

There fruit in falling kiss the orchard flow'rs. 

Thy bed will be adorned with silks fresh-weaved , 

Thy feasts will prove thee loved by maidens kind. 

Secluded from the world that deeds do work 

Contrary to their maker's will, the gods 

Will bless suchwise as feeling once, all else 

Will seem to have a void. Followest thou 

My way? Alcides, come!" 

An answer made 
His looks — he was subdued, and was as one 
Confined within the circle of a charm. 
She would have spoken more, as if to thwart 
Her who was closely by composed in mien. 
Standing apart since her arrival near 
Within the shadow of an oak, she now 
Stepped forth, the sun attending her with glimpse 
By glimpse. A dignity was hers, increased 
In pow'r by manners mild subserving it. 
With artless aim becalmed she him perplexed, 
Who would have turned from her in bashfulness. 



THE CHOICE OE ALCIDES. 37 

She touched him on the arm, next held his hand, 
Causing attention fixed from him to her 
Due earnestness to pay. 

"List, Alcides," she said, 
"To that which language has not means t5 show; 
So subtile is its truthfulness, it fills 
And animates that which is vanity 
With qualities its opposite — to thought 
Gives tone, to lancy will, to purpose sense; 
It rouses aims related to the soul, 
Reaching their fulfillment through weakness shunned, 
lliose of the flesh, not venial to the gods, 
Are counter to true welfare, giving gifts, 
Tlien taking forfeits. Know thou then there are 
Powers of manly virtues that the gods 
Confer on him who bids necessity. 
With worth, approach them to receive. Zeus 
Beholds thy state, and would have thee among 
The favored. But disdain not means to ends : 
Men foster confidence by able deeds. 
Thy body's health demands strength's excellence ; 
Thy parent's traits in thee development ; 
Thy friends need counsels freely from thy lips ; 
The poor thy gold, the wronged thy arm to aid ; 
Thy country asks allegiance to her cause ; 
Thy race in battle use heroic feats ; 
The gods devotion and simplicity ; — 
These means to ends remotely win the prize — 
'Tis proof secures the choice of sacred place. 



38 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Then bid the tempter who would thee mislead 
Avaunt — her who would lead thee to a course 
Contrary to existence's wiser goal." 

Alcides stepped aback from her a pace 
Or so ; as came conversion unto him 
With sweet enlightenment, he bowed to her 
As slave to mistress. 

Saw the tempter this 
Askance. Attempting to conceal chagrin 
In winning features, she drew near and paused. 
Her sway o'er him then trying to redeem 
(For knew she youth is caught by captious strains), 
She spoke again : 

"Thou hast those hopes aroused, 
Alcides, which forsake, like birds, fruit-trees 
On which they feed; for when a danger comes 
They fly, and would much rather starving die 
Than living live in fear. Experience shows 
That failure hath a score, success hath one ; 
This one, perhaps, for failure's number fit, 
Yet thrives, but in his thriving hath the voice 
Of envy sounding in his ears. Then know 
Thy hazard in assuming what may lead 
Not to the front, but to the rear. 'T is well 
Before ascending to reflect that height 
In pow'r, in goodness, in renown, is depth 
Of shame and gloom to him who falls. Observe 



THE CHOICE OF Af.C/DES. 39 

With toil and trouble men purchase bright days, 

Thinking them diamonds ; but, alack ! they fade 

Like devvdrops. Then with ease, enjoyment's arts 

And love awaiting thee, why tread the path 

Not suited to thy youth, its hopefulness, 

Its eagerness, its ecstacies ? For know 

Thy nature is of too refined a mould 

To change itself by leaving joys behind 

And meeting woes before. Then come with me, 

Alcides ! —Hark ! — 't is music's instruments 

Lulling the air afar. Let's thither go. 

Come ! come ! — be generous to thyself, and come 

To blissfulness." 

She paused. With finger fair 
And glitt'ring with a ring she pointed out 
Her way, then stood queen-wise, an actress through 
And through. Alcides turned aloof, and moved 
Athwart the grass, avoiding her with looks 
As if she absent were. His reason saw 
Her now; his folly when she came at first. 
A false tie to the real her actions held, 
Forbidding what her words desired of him. 
And causing doubt to lessen confidence. 

Anon the one of modesty who had 
Abashed retired, came forth, appearing now 
As if she felt her cause was gained with aid 
Of aught diviner than herself. 'Twas thus 
She spoke: — "Alcides, thy perception is 



40 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

To thee a monitor that knows the tongue 

Of evil. Praise to it! Then cherish it 

Over thy parts immortal to control, 

And to instil a sympathy for what 

Makes mortals brave and great ; for fare thou must 

Like a hero of the antecedent times, 

Bearing hardships before the guerdon came 

Unto the palm, the bay unto the brow. 

Life seeks its law ; it otherwise is vain. 

Selfishness drinks joy's wine until it cloys, 

Causing a melancholy to succeed, 

That to relieve itself must sport amiss, 

To find, a brief while on, delusion's (harms 

Exhausting are. Then learn, the serious brow, 

The temp'rate want, the nourished truth on truth, 

l^he feeling warmed and beautified by hope, 

The trait on trait endowing patient strength. 

The attributes that quiet triumph know, 

The sense combining all in character — 

Its own example of compacted worth — 

Rejoicings have peculiar to themselves. 

Deep, deep, within the province of the soul. 

Furthermore, what thou art may be the root 

To show a growth which haply may produce 

The fruit, celestial in its taste, relished 

By gods the most. Then take the path thy mind 

Foretells befitting is; directing thee 

'Twill be conjunctive to thy own repose 

(When to pale ashes turns thy form) within 

The regions of the blessed." 



THE CHOICE OF ALCIDES. 41 

Thus ended she — 
A goddess from the skies. As such revealed, 
She wielded double potency that stirred 
Bowed Alcides. He breathed as one who had 
A second nature gained, inspiring more 
Than that the first, prophetic of a meed 
Awaiting him in years to be. 

He said : 
" Thou art unto my thinking part that which 
My speaking part can not expression fi.nd, 
O goddess! to make known. A something near 
To gratitude, but which hath more than it 
Of love and faith, a strange possession has, 
Making me sadly glad. But let in time 
My actions be on path that thou hast shown 
What will thy satisfaction pay as meet 
From me to thee, and be, approved by thee, 
To me a consolation and a guide." 

Thus long ago he spoke to her, and was 
From youthhood turned aright. Unfolding forth 
The oaken quality of heroic strength, 
He dropped upon the earth of human groAvth 
The seeds of greatness. Hence when destiny 
Its final shadow o'er his figure drew. 
Mankind his loss perceived, and evermore 
Him knew as Hercules the mighty one 
In sphere devoted to the gods, himself 
Empowered, co-ruling upon a throne. 



42 CLASSICAL I'OKMS. 



THE CITY IN RUINS. 



C\^ yore a city by Time's river stood. 

Holding commerce with silent, distant worlds, 
Rich argosies came stealing from the gloom 
As if from the Unknown, and bore such fruits 
As mortals tasting once, love more than well 
With sober hunger's yearning. There they dwelt — 
A people favored by a righteousness; 
By qualities of mind not of a race, 
But of mankind more large, commensurate 
With those of fabled deities ; by types 
Of beauty, all unconscious of their charm, 
With virtue's spirit e'er sustaining them ; 
By manly tone deep in affinity 
With wisdom's valor, happy in the skill 
Of choosing hopes that met ambition's aim 
With sweet reality. 

But to a close 
An era came, like Day that sees the sun 
Go down, and is in gloom. A heavy cloud 
Above the city hung, and pensive was 
The brow where joy had been, as oracles 
A grievous time foretold. Life's modes had changed. 
Succeeding on the heels of vanity. 
Freedom's discord licensed oppression's ills. 
Some warning voices rose and spoke of things 
As once they were, and to the present turned 
With scornful fingers. But, alack ! men's ears 



rHE CITY IN KUIXS. 43 

Were deaf, or whene'er otherwise not prone 

So to adapt their acts unto the means 

That would reform their phght. Anon there came 

One who did mutter words from depths of that 

Strange fervency which works within the breast 

Of him who has just found fresh inner might 

Accruing to the virtue of himself. 

A sharpness of mild sense was his to cope 

With life's sure obstacles, o'ercoming much 

With kindly effort when his will arose 

And bade him courage use. Often he stood 

Above a crowd, as separate from it 

As Nestor from a soldier-throng, resolved 

And still resolving on accomplishment 

Of duteous service. Speaking, men he tried 

To move with new impulses, next new faiths, 

To give a tenor to their lives that would 

A reason for itself have in deep thoughts, 

And form a project for creating well 

Out of old themes, old laws, old usages 

A period better for humanity. 

Once in the forum uttered he: ''These days 
Affect the blood and make it feverish, 
Unsettling us from habits regular. 
Our actions false give false results. We know 
The present is a destiny wherein 
Man moves forever and forever on. 
Yet hope ne'er glorifies each day's events 
With what it would have pass; it more observes 



44 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

In what's to come than in what is, because 

It sees a future measureless, that keeps 

It restless by a false comparison. 

Contentment, wise and charitable, invests 

E'en poverty with noble sentiments, 

Making lowliness good despite itself; 

Giving a certain calm, apprehended 

By those who are in sympathy with what 

Unfolds in secret silence truth by truth. 

Some conscious of this calm, do reach for it ; 

They blindly grope within, their store of pow'rs 

Among, but find it not, in turn to feel 

Emotion's ignorance is life not born 

Into the freedom of a thinking world. 

Thus in endeavor lost they strive. It seems 

A shadow shadows them, although they are 

Within the light that warms. The years both come 

And go to multiply seed over seed, 

Growth over growth, fruit over fruit. Nature 

Produces these, but barren they. Their lives 

Unfortunate in that they feel not long 

The higher arts of mind which would transcend 

In some forthcoming destiny — have sight 

Beyond the present in perfection's cause. 

Become adhesive in its earnestness. 

And find in mental limitadons they 

Are passengers unto some distant point 

Of double capability. Therein 

Ambition finds its pay in noble aims. 

And honor in fulfillment ; for therein 



THE CITY IN RUINS. 45 

Fortune is less and less ; therein the weeds 
Of vanity fade more and more ; therein 
Content increases, shining after nights 
Of trouble on days of quiescence, men 
To clothe with Nature's robe, they claiming her, 
She claiming them ; thus hand-in-hand to go 
Adown the vista of successive years. 
Endowed above the world's environment." 

He ceased. His speech was vague to auditors, 
Deeming he spoke of men remote, and not 
To men anear : his tact too fine for them ! 
A part had called him false and turned aloof; 
Others had lingered by to hear, but their 
Emotions cold rose not to warmth of faith ; 
And others still, a few, his words had heard 
With meaning foiled, their hearts intolerant. 

The heavy cloud still o'er the city hung. 
Appeals were vain. Gave succor not the gods ; 
Disdained, the trivial was worshipped more 
Than they. Soon hopes, hke fires unfed, died out 
And spread their ashes o'er men's path. The cloud 
Still hung and hung; at morn 'twas there, at eve 
'T was there— the sun obscured, the moon obscured. 
'Twas like a portent in the sky, there placed 
To make hearts pause and fear. For guidance men 
Looked into life's abyss — no ray was seen. 
Some turned to crime, and others to despair. 
A misrule came by which the strong despoiled 



46 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

The weak. Old placid times were never more 

To be ! Then suddenly, as if by awe 

Inspired to flee from plague, great throngs their beds 

And household gods upgathered, leaving day 

By day through archways of the town. 

And left its shrines, its walls, its palaces, 

Its theatres to slow decay — 

To solitude made grim by Ruin's hand. 



DOWN AMID THE SHADOWS. 

/^NCE on a time at night the musings turned 

To mystery — the soul's dark covering- 
Oblivious sleep — freedom from cares to have — 
From struggles vain with Fate's dull malady. 
The hours moved off, their missions all fulfilled, 
Unto the depths of past's eternity. 
At last a dream, with symbols of an art 
Presenting truth, unfolded these events: 

It was the frontage of a grove whose winds 
The foliaged haunt of sweet-mossed earth foretold. 
A pathway ran through it to distance far ; 
On either side were vistas touched with charm, 
As clouds o'erchanging seemed adown to send 
From their own hues a tranquilizing haze. 
Upon the pathway moved anon a throng 
Of youths, with maidens dressed in white or red. 



DOIVA' AMID THE SHADOWS. 47 

Who soon an open gate approached, and went 

Within the Garden of Gay Sciences. 

Therein the throng themselves dispersed — under 

The shady silence of an oak-tree old ; 

Among retreats knee-deep with verdure's growth ; 

Under fresh bow'rs, each bearing clustered graj)es 

In purple plenty; by a grotto rude, 

Where festal things were spread; by crystal pools, 

Reflecting boughs above with sprays thereon. 

The lotus and the asphodel combined, 

Though opposite, to lure, each in its way. 

To places proffering much of speciousness. 

Thought seemed espoused to some quiescent realm 

Of tempting deities, dream-webs to spin, 

Enmessing self in Epicurean ease. 

Believing it true life, not its sure doom. 

Pleasure instilled forgetfulness : in vain 

Shone down the calm religion of the sky ; 

The beaming hours within revolving time 

Sped on unnoted through the arch of day, 

Faith's ministry unfelt. In mild disdain, 

There Wrong appeared to cry: "Away with creeds, 

And all the jargon of the holy church, 

That would restrain with Puritanic bounds, 

That bids that done which doing thwarts man's pride." 

When came a twilight shadow o'er the world. 
As if Nature, supine, was doomed to die 
Amid her plenitude, half lost in dark 
The garden seemed. How transitory oft 



48 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Within contented minds the sunny hour ! 

As clouds above with self-mysterious pow'r 

Just stirred, obscuring stars, compunction caused 

A melancholy numbness of the thought ; 

And down a vale of doubt the footsteps moved, 

Leaving the garden to deep shades of night. 

Anon was seen, approaching slowly near, 
A man in hermit's garb. He held aloft 
A lantern, choosing with its ray a path 
That led from place to place. A cup he bore 
That quivered in his aged hand. In time 
He was hard by, and bid with Stoic glance 
The lips partake what was within the cup — 
A gall from fruitage squeezed once left to grow 
Within the garden of the mind. Alas, 
The draught most bitter was ! Then thus he spoke 
"Conscience am I to guide to fate below." 
The mystic scroll of good he then explained ; 
Then with stern quality of voice defined. 
With counsels meet, the changes that befall 
Man's growing nature, that, by Time impelled 
Towards ills fronting, unavoidable, 
Subdues them all, he proselyting self 
To virtue from probation's course of years. 
He ceased, as sighs of wind about were heard. 
Then with a cold and silent dignity 
He led a devious way, until a bound 
Was reached, wherein a cavern's stony depth 
Afforded downward aid to parts remote — 



THE PLATO OF THE TOWN. 49 

Downward through aisles — by sounding grottoes chill 
With subterranean airs^through chambers wide, 
Where long stalactic shapes were pendent o'er. 
At last, where daylight's red and purple orb 
Ne'er peered, the goal was shown. Therein 
Chaos most old (Nature's ancestor grim) 
Was clothed in formless solitude to reign. 
Toward him went as if an innate force 
Them urged a spirit-throng (and lo ! it was 
The self-same throng of youths with maidens that 
Within the garden moved) to surrender 
Themselves (each unabsolved) thereto and shades- 
Yea, everlasting shades within the goal. 

As when faint sounds of discord in a dream 
Alarm, appearing thus so real, so seemed 
A voice to rouse the soul at waking dawn 
The verity of things to understand, 
As Time stood to redeem, upholding means 
And crown of beauty, asking but the will 
To rise and earn the treasures in his hand. 



THE PLATO OF THE TOWN. 

JJIS intellectual being stood out large 

And bold — a giant form — on the hill-top 
O'er carnal lowliness, above his kind, 
And men preferred it so. A season of his years 



50 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Had come wherein he saw abundant crops 
Rewarding sacrifices of labor prior ; 
But hopes forespent among the ills of time 
At last met disappointment more and more. 

He had seen men with cynic's eye. Whilst thus, 
His instinct to select mistook its way ; 
It chose a field perplexing — in extent 
Perplexing still ; — in searching for few facts, 
His theories to color with belief, 
A contradiction came in cognate facts. 
Making his purpose feel its feebleness 
Before his reason. Next impatience moved — 
Moved him, the man of flesh, long-haired, rough-browed. 
With ribs and thews of rare development, 
As thinking wrought a spell, and cast behind 
Sensations crude. Then with a sigh he looked 
Upon humanity with urbane eye. 
And felt at peace with it and with himself. 
In course of time, his disposition changed. 
He saw rare things wherefrom he formed an aim. 
Having both fervor and stern confidence. 
Profoundly measuring much good by good, 
And finding charm in each, resolved he what 
He chose into a model fit, ideal. 
Austere, whereby himself to mould. Awhile 
Aloof in solitude abided he. 
Acquainted with the things of moral weal, 
Unfolding joy in concord with the days 
That consecrated were. To him it seemed 



THE PLATO OF THE TOWN. 51 

More virtues than he had could be near brought 
Through thought — they in salvation were afar 
Glorious in perfection ! Thus he would, 
Whilst still pervaded by earth's atmosphere, 
Remotely haunt eternal Consciousness, 
It deify, and to it kneel as to 
A shrine. The present was a stepping-stone 
Unto the height he saw before ; the past 
Absorbed him not, for yesterday was but 
The edge receding of oblivious years. 

With that warm trustfulness which mothers feel 
For traits marked in their offspring, so sincere 
He upon doctrines nursed relied, and felt 
Them meet to go abroad to honor win 
Through services, and bless their cause with pride 
At their effect. But lo ! as to and fro 
Went crowds, in body much, in spirit scant, 
Finding, then missing ways unto their weal. 
His voice was strange, its meaning mute to ears 
Adverse. He taught things counter to the world's. 
No sin did he excuse, with passion's touch 
In tone, suggesting egotism was moved 
To countenance another's fault for sake 
Of self-agreement in supporting what 
Bestows authority for breaking laws 
And exculpation for the consequence. 
Man's greatest sin, he showed, is vanity ; 
And it would rather cheat to gain esteem. 
Than undeceive to lose praise false ; than be. 



52 



CL A SSICA L POEMS. 

Would rather seem a long life through. It turns 

To hug the false with zeal, because it serves 

Expediency with a pow'r to thrive 

More certain in uncertainty. Hence such 

A wrong in Paul excites no self-reproof, 

Perceiving that it gives him Hberty 

To take from others to himself: his pride 

Connives at it, his habit sanctions it, 

His conscience favors it with sophistry. 

But such a wrong in Job arouses what 

In Paul is hateful selfishness, and makes 

Him loudly censure his own sin in him 

More fortunate, in order not to lose 

His own advantage through means of falsity. 

Thus is the world confounded in its aims ; 

Too prone to choose the wrong and not the right. 

It sows false seed, and harvests bitter grain. 

His words were laws to some, they greeting him 
With deference ; but others blind, who knew 
No honor save that honored by the eye. 
Not by the mind, would flatter him. He met 
These with a mild disdain ; for flattery 
To him was satire hid, him showing frail 
Deceived by it; for worth is full, he knew; 
Content within itself, inviting none 
To put a value false upon its traits 
With spurious means. His censor conscience just. 
In love with humbleness, at peace with all 



7' HE RECLUSE. 53 

His mind bore fruit sustaining him, and had 
A Summer in its wintery rigidness. 

But on the whole, his firm endeavors failed 
Larger to make men's sight with his. He shrank 
From where his neighbors gathered oft to talk, 
As disappointments slowly bowed his head. 
Within a tenor of a life of shade 
With shade, of depth with depth, he setded down, 
And faced conditions with philosophy. 
Then Death himself at a mature old age 
With animated confidence; — and men 
Preferred it so. -'T was thus he died, and dead, 
They knew him as the Plato of the town. 



THE RECLUSE. 

Amicus humani generis 



A MONG the vales he dwelt. He knew the stars 

As seamen know them, watching through the hours; 
He knew the winds, and whence their odors came, 
Feeling their spectral spell; he knew the sounds 
Of morn, each with a missive to his ear 
Of thought and pleasure grave ; he knew the world, 
Judging with senses keen himself and men 
At large. Acquainted with both life and death, 
The latter was to him a birth, himself 



54 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

In womb of Time, awaiting for death-life, 

With Fate, the second nurse, expectant close. 

He thus relations held unto a state 

Of rarer being, doubly living high 

And low, exchanging thought for thought ; and hence 

His sympathies enriched themselves with what 

Proud apathy deemed valueless. He knew 

Doubts nourish troubles more and more, and faith 

Protects itself by shielding joy in hope. 

Him moved convictions good and manifold, 

He fearlessly upholding them. He loved 

The common tenor of a common way. 

His modesty — not of the borrowed sort — 

It fit him like a coat most aptly made — 

Touching the hearts of men, caused them to view 

His nature with approving eye. Indeed, 

He moved humanity with what him moved, 

Leading his followers toward the lore 

Revealing life's ulterior ends. He showed ~ 

That men do worship what they need: Dives' 

Repast is Hunger's gospel ; calves of gold 

Are honored for the metal, not the form 

Expressive of a moral fact ; and that 

Reason's purpose is folly's servant oft. 

Yet seldom weaving from its discontent 

The home-spun comfort of contentment. 

Yet doth the soul gift them with inner light. 

That once to see seems unaccountable, 

Still that they know is, feeling that they are 

Somehow moved by the self-same light from worse 



THE RECLUSE. 55 

7"o better. But to follow flesh man finds 

A sacrifice hath been his pilgrimage: 

Bearing with heavy mind increasing loads 

Of knowledge false, to nature bhnd, he sees 

Vague depths, and follows failure as a torch 

To dismal loss ; or by ambition urged. 

He fronts the sun of fame ; his shadow falls 

Behind to represent him to the world 

Disfigured on the stepping-stones by which 

He would by slow degrees ascend. Nowise 

With truth, he deems himself with knowledge rich; 

Deem.s what appears is equal to what is ; 

Deems Nature's emblem is a thing to wear, 

Fruitless, the lapel on of vanity. 

Whilst Nature's self to conscience sighs and speaks 

Of thwarted usefulness. Hence Nature casts 

His shadow on the stepping-stones to show 

The world his own disfigurement that is 

Within himself — to Truth with truth she shows. 

She leads the mind to choose earth's sentiments — 

The good from bad — the wheat from chaff — and gives 

Unto emotions' bounds a sweet extent. 

Having the possible in chrysalis, 

Enabling them to see right means, right ends; 

See flesh as dust, and soul as life — see their 

Own triumph after death unfolding still 

Their pow'rs in an eternal secrecy. 

In recognition of the truth of Truth ! 



56 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Suchwise he taught unto adherents few 
With systematic patience of a mind 
Endowed to minister from deep belief 
And bosom purified. A friend or two 
Felt favors on them thrust with solemn force, 
Upraising from unworthiness, yet saw 
Themselves unripe in his maturity, 
Meeting his presence with a seriousness 
As if it were a medium sure to depths 
Of Providence in visionary realms. 



THE INSISTENCE OF NATURE. 

Nature the vicar of the Ahnightie Lord." — Chaucer. 

'\\7'HAT independent life among the fields ! 

The spirit of the month assuages it 
With nameless calm. Withal, the air doth hold 
A solemn virtue known to him who thinks 
Profoundly of his being's attitude 
Toward the mystery of that which is — 
Of that which near in privacy of Time 
Instils emotions with a sympathy 
For day and all its hues, for night and all 
Its orbs. The fields, the hills, the vales, the woods. 
Clothed in a tranquilizing green, hath each 
A potency, embodied not, yet speaks 
Of hidden excellence — of something rare 
Behind their folds. Approaching the ideal 



7 HE IXSISTEXCE OE NATURE. 57 

Of what is better than the best within 

Itself, the mind is moved. Here faith trusts Hfe 

To come, as murmurs cast a spell; deep, deep 

They sink, and the imagination move. 

Conducive to faith's end of happiness 

Through visions seen. Within a ])leasure comes 

Anon to stay ; it shows that Nature is 

Unto the hope a language and a law. 

Inspiring and directing it with dreams 

Musically attuned. Thereby the sense 

Is amplified with pow'r, not from within, 

But from without, and with perception clear 

Compares the pro and con of man. It sees 

His dwelling place is darkness. Yet his night 

Is neighbor to his day ; his self at worst 

Is neighbor to his self at best; his fate 

Is neighbor to his choice ; his woe to joy ; 

His falsity to truth ; his life to time 

Eternal. Death's sorceries perplexes him ; 

He ponders, still no sweet assurance has ; 

No depth in him reveals unravelment; 

The offspring of experience come and die ; 

His energies work not in noble use ; 

He shifts his efforts here and there, and deems 

Fortune, not Justice, will a favor grant ; 

In quest of Wisdom, spurns he pearls before 

His feet, and gathers Folly's flow'rs. Alas ! 

Forsaking his divinity, he aches and mourns, 

Then toils and climbs, yet scorns that altitude 

Of thought which parts him from the ways of earth 



58 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

And= human interests involving him. 

Nature at hand with scene, breeze, leaf, bloom, brook, 

Bird, bee and sound, has aught for him to claim — 

Association fit! — but 'tis his whim to live 

Within himself as in a spell adverse 

To her — as in a mould imperfect made, 

And not in unison with heart sincere 

And mind exact. Indeed, his flesh and blood 

Both foster self in selfishness. Hollow, 

With Nature he endeavors to brave out 

Some cause amiss — shows what he is, he is 

Unknown to himself. 'Tis she that knows 

Him all, and for his discipline debars 

Him from the grace of that intelligence 

Of self until the time appropriate 

For qualities abstruse ; meanwhile to him, 

A common man, 'tis she that is a pow'r 

Both when he sleeps, and when he wakes ; when he 

Mistakes, when he succeeds ; when he obeys, 

When he commands, and in uncertainty 

Of change by change most certain is. Amiss 

He reads transitions past from child to man ; 

He feels not they attain a destiny 

Remotely placed. When he relinquished states 

Of former growth in other ones to dwell, 

Despite himself, he felt not gain from means 

Awaiting his advent, nor anticipates 

Those yet reserved. Still silent Nature near 

Insisting, with her myriad pow'rs, unites 

Him to herself, influencing him through years. 



TEMPUS FUGIT. 59 

Until perfections raise themselves above 

His blemishes, and calmly honor him 

With virtue's thought with virtue's soul to guide. 



TEMPUS FUGIT. 



T^IME flies! we fade! although we breathe in joy, 

Heart-fruitful in a cause of truth, in hope 
The future will answer each fond desire 
With palmy fullness. Winter near, we saj^ 
That harvest comes with it : with Nature's laws 
At variance, faith is over-strong, and makes 
A zone adapted to its purposes, 
Ignoring aught besides. 'Tis thus we dwell 
In joy, in hope, in faith. The past is seen, 
Where wandered as the butterfly the sense 
Ideal, it haunting us from year to year, 
Making us dream. Somehow this feeling old 
Prevails in spite of what hath been, and gives 
A second soul devoted to an aim. 
Not of this world, but of that world to which 
As phantoms travel we with silent feet 
From point to point. Still drowse too oft 
We on the wayside banks, avoiding then 
The background deep of sober thought, purblind 
To that which only can accomplished be 
Through aspiration active to its end ; 
nd our purblindness would embody things 



6o CLASSICAL I'OEMS. 

Not worthy of the true unfolding depth 

Of life. Then melancholy comes anon, 

Playing with touches strange upon the mood, 

As we in it behold reflected traits 

Of what ours are. With Time associate. 

The subtleties of nature show what we 

Could be, and urge the disposition's zeal 

With greater effort to fulfill a work 

Befitting, as a mould, the figure of ourselves. 

Though often deaf to them, they speak to us, 

Like oracles, as with authority, 

As rise we by slow heed from levels that 

Depress the will's free sensibility, 

To elevations that sustain and soothe, 

Enriching with those means which to the sage 

Reflecting deep, feels best, sees best, keeps best, 

And reads the history of the human mind 

With vision comprehending more and more. 

Still we exist in what v/e feel ; see things 

That never were, nor will they be ; in vain 

We look for them, conjuring with ourselves 

In spite of learning, time, eternity. 

Wonders to do — play heroes to a glass ; 

See much in little, fail to mark what's great ; 

Teaching the puppet-self an aping trade. 

We think each day a stage whereon to act. 

And acting think the game of life is won. 

The truth that animates sincerity 

The heart possesses not. Our frailty seeks 

Excuses for itself in fancied gifts 



T EM PUS FUG IT. 6l 

Of Strength that fail in exercise. 

Sense pines for what it hungers, leaving pass 

The hour of grace for mid-day's dubious boon, 

As comes a palsy-touch upon the flesh, 

Making us grow old. Sentiments intense 

That flowers are with aroma, that need 

The warmth of happy circumstance, die ere 

The fade-time ; and we altered are from what 

Is warm to what is cold. In coldness lost, 

Too much we claim, too little others give ; 

Our grafted pow'rs bear other fruit than ours ; 

What folly feels we worship as a shrine ; 

The reason sees not with a lordly eye ; 

We solve one problem, then for thousands ask, 

Them answer not, yet stand we by the one, 

Deeming our insight to a greatness grown ;— 

But, lo! our pride is great, ourselves are small. 

We find us idols to upraise, that move 

Those passions secret which men aggravate, 

Making them mad, misleading them from Truth — 

From Truth who mirrors in themselves that fate 

Which shows at last results, with something fraught 

Having a choral symphony for soul 

To hear in vagueness of its faculties, 

And see unfolding scenes of finer joy, 

And feel incentives to endeavors great. 

And know reward in new experience sweet : 

Yea, bliss they never breathe, within a sphere 

They never reach, is there — deep, deep within 

That fate. Still Time flies. Still we eat, and drink, 



62 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

And sleep, and soon forget both kin and friends — 

The victims of the tomb — and turn to meet 

Another morrow with another face. 

Still purposeless, our faith's without a heart; 

Our wants mere vapor to evaporate ; 

Our transient mood in fellowship with scorn; 

Our peace mere ashes — burned out coals 

Of former action. Still we bubbles court, 

Then find them gone ; or hunger for the fruit 

Ere days of blossom ; or esteem a charm 

Locked in futility. What gives to mind 

A fibre firm, and gives to brows brows not 

Their own, and hues to hues, and life to life — 

The everlasting light of destiny — 

We know not. What's nobler than ascending change ! 

Duty is e'er a path whereon dew-gleams 

Invite before to Time's upraising grade, 

Transforming life to death, and death to life 

In peaceful unity with heaven's own change. 

But still Time flies ! Returning not with us 

Again, another throng will take our place 

In other seasons and with other scenes. 

'Tis even now encroaching changes end 

Must soon. We fade like cold November leaves; 

Yet falter ere we fall, as Fate below — 

What Fate ? — the one of prophets true who tell 

Of beauty and its righteousness remote ? — 

Awaits to gather to the shade of shades. 



STEPPING-STONES. 63 



STEPPING-STONES. 



A YOUTH pursues a butterfly anear 

Upon a road that seems to lead to groves; 
He deems a guider true the winged gaud ; 
He deems a journey brief toward its goal. 
Anon the guider's gone, the road is lost 
Within a labyrinth of forest trees ; 
Then sober Eve comes on to show his thought 
That life's ideal is merged within the real. 

II. 

A youth that plays with toys by Fancy made 
Dream-wise within a garden green of Spring, 
Foretells where tends the footstep of the mind 
To gain a manly bourne in time before : 
What country it will reach to claim a tie, 
What soil approach with favor to possess. 
What seeds implant within the fallow ground, 
What sheaves bind in the fertile harvest month, 
What fruitage gather from the branch's hold, 
What measures of the bounties once acquired 
Others will give to help their journey on. 

III. 

A youth, though in a narrow limit born, 
Though knowing naught of trade and far affairs, 
Can with his mere imagination form 



64 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

A vast domain where he alone is lord. 
True laws of government he may ordain, 
Rare public virtues show for models just, 
Wise intercourses hold with neighbor-realms; 
May build, o'erthrow with alternate design 
Work to surpass before with work ere long. 

IV. 

A distant goal is open to be gained, 
Wherein are laurel wreaths to crown success. 
As ancient champions eager to outdo, 
Proud youths devote themselves their will to train 
To reach a prospect of bestowing years. 
They turn from specious si)heres wherein abound 
No heights to beck them upward to exalt — 
Wherein are souls that know not their great loss. 

v. 

The tendency of faithful Love first touched 
W^ith early gleams of its awaking light 
Is to retire from ways of turmoil-trade, 
To rove alone in brighter atmosphere. 
To purify the mood with clearer thought. 
Like a cloud that leaves the dismal folds of storm, 
Seeking some tranquil sky afar to turn 
Its aspect dark into a snowy one. 

VI. 

The alchemy of Love transmutes within 
Dull dross to gold : a man in fortune thrives 



STEPPING-STONES. 65 

Among his friends ; he gains abundant land 

In neighborhood of towns; keeps wolves at bay, 

That haunt about a poor man's meagre means 

As if in scorn of cabined poverty ; 

Enlarges all his views, that see afar 

Life's Unities awaiting to assist 

Him year by year in adding to his worth. 

VII. 

'Tis Love that aids the bud of knighthood out 
Under the warmth of sympathetic skies. 
To tinge the petals with a color known 
To eyes adept in reading mystic lore — 
In seeing depths under a surface lie. 
Anon a bloom with symbols o'er it S]^read 
Unto an idle, wond'ring world it shows, 
Throngs to a centre of repose to woo, 
Them with a lotus-touch of calm to charm, 
That they may turn to dwell its sphere within. 

VIII. 

A woman's soul a star of guidance is! 
Purblind the man her roses of delight. 
Her invitations to a peaceful bower, 
Her harp to hear inspired by sympathy, 
Refuses, deeming them with snares replete. 
She spreads around her glamour, which conceals 
The bosom of her worth ; it serves to woo 
Unto those traits of hers that fruitful are — 
That multiply themselves in men — that move 



66 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Hearts masculine, unconscious of the cause, 
In sweet effects to act a lifetime out. 

IX. 

Let higher self desire in time to claim 
A heritage from Nature fraught with traits, 
To scatter them as seeds within Life's field, 
The growths virtues, the fruits thick pendent o'er. 
Some evils show upon the branch's form, 
Others virtues in prime's copious season ; 
Some have the marks of folly on the rind. 
Others the juice of wisdom at the core. 

X. 

To live awhile with things of silent Time 
That are in sky, in air, on earth, in sea — 
To hold communion with them all, to feel 
A strange beatitude in turn arouse — 
A beatitude to haunt in day, in night ; 
A pow'r without to rule a pow'r within 
To draw life's forces forth — is to conform 
The manhood to a way of rectitude 
Essential to the progress of its state. 

XI. 

The cold may come with Winter in the front; 
The stars retire behind the sable clouds ; 
The storm assail the tree-tops on the heights, 
Ruling god-like in bold obscurity ; 
Still round the citadel of manhood stern 



ST EPPING-SrON ES. 67 

Let feet move on to utter timely cry- 
When danger near approaches to besiege — 
Let thoughts thoughts sentinel to see 
That all their duty do until the morn, 
That virtues housed within may be secure, 
That evils may be held at proper bay. 

XII. 

'Tis nobleness of thought that well inspires 
Toward high purposes ; these once achieved, 
Prove false the fear of those that them conceive 
A sacrifice to gain. A largess great 
They give to all. Who turns a reason loath 
Upon them shows a disposition crude — 
A thing amiss, astray from its true path — 
Nature within distracted from its aim — 
Himself a germ devoid of helpful soil. 

XIII. 

A heart of charity a servant is. 
It traces truth unto its secret haunts, 
Discerns that periods are at service good: 
The days come forth their labor to perform, 
The nights have weary vigils to maintain, 
The months support their burdens to the front. 
The season serf-Hke push through heat or cold, 
The years at work are sternly moving on. 
Then why should man disdain to be confined, 
As things of Nature are, in service-tasks, 
That truth may well reward him in the end? 



68 CLASSICAL POEMS. 



XIV. 



To worship day-dreams is a tendency 
Of those who love their fellow-beings well — 
To cherish passing schemes the race to raise 
Above normal unto supernal good. 
Hence they oft labor m a fond belief 
That an event encounters to oppose. 
The path of progress blocked, in turn it seems 
Charity's aim is doomed. Those elements 
Promote that with small gain small gain improves — 
An object little makes, but large in worth. 
Then worship not day-dreams with their false views, 
Ye charitable, but lowly labor on. 

XV. 

A man of wisdom sees rare things before, 
Mystic at first, yet at a future hour 
Clearer they show themselves ; they footsteps lead, 
As indexes, to golden eventide — 
That eventide of time where Age at ease 
Sits down among his sundry records old 
To read his past — the fortunate release 
From days once tangled in a web of years — 
The new-come freedom — happiness restored — 
The spirit mounting o'er the flesh to find 
Its sum of troubles but a brief ado. 

XVI. 

A vista clear before of thought profound 
Presents a goodly prospect all the year — 



STEPPING-STONES. 69 

No Winter rash pours down with P]orcal breath 

A frigid fury on the fleeing South. 

True effort means a journey to its bounds — 

A task confined within a course of time, 

That self-adjusts unto forthcoming ties, 

It knowing they bestow due recompense. 

XVII. 

• The pow'r to bear a judgment firm on self, 
To prove its faults, and censure so the same 
That they repeated cause to conscience pain ; 
To prove its merits, raise them to a place 
That they become reminders, each a form. 
By which to aid the spirit-faculties; — 
Is oft denied to those that callous are ; 
Absorbed in specious things spread out before, 
They see within not their owai dormant gifts. 

XVIII. 

A life of mere cold years wherein to move 
As one confined upon an island lone, 
To eat, to clothe, to sleep — no more — is dross 
Surrounding gold — a seed within a rock — 
The Real opposing the Ideal, that needs 
Warm years, a hemisphere of space, the looks 
Of love, the social sympathies of homes. 
And temples which contribute mysteries 
Imagination to arouse. 



yo CLASSICAL POEMS. 

XIX. 
The voice of inner truth holds converse with 
A world of shade, of light : the one has death, 
The other life. Life has a force to go, 
If no defects retard, through far degrees 
Of light, growth to assist in endless space. 
Then carry self from flesh to criticise, 
As in a glass, the flaws upon the soul 
That it may to due remedies apply. 

XX. 

In existence there is a bounty rare 
Greater than Himalaya's bulky range, 
Whereby the heathen swart in fancy sees 
Of grandeur tier on tier to uplands high — 
A bounty that beyond succeeds itself 
In settlements most firm of rising ridge 
O'er ridge, until the outline of a peak 
Stands forth, a crown of white upon its brow. 



SLEEP. 

T^HE harvest-field of dreams is poppied o'er ; 

Within deep sleep we reach the highest peace; 
The warmth of Summer gives a bounteous rest. 
With calm's enchantment in its atmosphere ; 
Then let us turn to slumber, turn to dreams 
And their vague spell. Now is our harvest stored 



SLEEP. 



71 



How sweet the song of labor done and past ! 

Yet mortals need a self-forgetfulness. 

Change comes by law, and not by chance, and gives 

Something better for something worse. Follows 

Attainment after toil, life after birth, 

Death after life. Involved in change, we have 

Our longings, and would with the birds rejoice, 

That sing in happiness unconsciously; 

Seeking it not, it comes to them at will ; 

With us 'tis otherwise. Our seekins foils 

The search, or finding cloys the sympathy, 

And leaves amiss what would appropriate be, 

With disappointment ever in the fore. 

Then slumber we, and dream, forgetting ties 

Of earth, cobwebbed awhile in gloom of glooins, 

Akin to blessedness of night, and warm 

Like Lethe's stream, assuaging in its sound 

Upon the pebbles ; dead to thought and strife. 

To heart's triumph, to mind's environment 

On some Parnassian height of laurels won. 

With plain food by we hunger for a feast ; 

With feelings moved we see with erring eyes ; 

With common gifts we would transcend the gods — 

Yea, dead to these, ambition's heritage, 

Let's lie in slumber, deep within ourselves, 

Whilst to our spirit comes, on mission sent, 

The starlight's spirit from the twinkling gloom, 

Making us placid evermore m years — 

Placid and wise like silver gray of age. 



72 



CLASSICAL POEMS. 



OLD AGE. 



/^LD AGE ! what are to thee the airs of youth ? 

The roses on the cheek of joyousness ? 
The supple gait in concord with a will 
Of inward animation ? Health and bliss 
Bestow their charms, then leave behind a taste 
That profits by their loss, inspiring thought 
With precepts fitted to the mind's fond wont 
Made grave by years. Thy melancholy's cold 
Hath' then a heat engendering growth of fruit, 
Hanging between the branches of thy gnarled 
And crooked strength, with flavor that 
Commends itself. Yet men sit at thy feet. 
As at an altar, fearing thee too prone. 
Thy Roman look hath awe compelling them 
To shrink. They hear thy wiser words as words, 
With inner meaning e'er devoid ; thy board, 
With viands set, mixed simple needs, are scraps 
(The penalties of begging poverty) 
To them ; thy actions are construed to fit 
The understanding that doth censure thee 
Amiss in cold dislike, or serve a jest 
To subjects that dilate themselves in terms 
Hilarious about the tavern door. 
That mimic heedless of the consequence. 
Yet thou, too, wert as they — thy scoffing time ! 
Then thou hadst fancies wild — j"st as have they !- 
And love unsettling thee, and frolics oft 



OLD AGE. 73 

Within the town ! Strange crotchets, too, thou hadst 

In aims, a score by score, which never found 

An issue in fruition ! Then quaint ideas 

(That opposition taught thee how to guard 

With words of prejudice, withal sincere) 

Of spheres remote from thee, whose habitants 

Were paragons for men of politics, 

Where justice law forestalled (in theory!) 

Where life a tenor oped to vistas rare 

Of intellectual fields — of wisdom's life 

The form, of patience's life the soul. It thus 

Appears a spirit in thee worked to show 

To where all tend, and made thee dwell at tmies 

In spheres befitting to the use of what 

Within thee is, and by comparison 

Of good with bad led thee from change to change — 

From worst to best in semblance. Life's rare worth 

Lies in obscurity. It crowns hairs gray. 

'Tis thus a royalty becoming thee 

Favors thy state — proud privilege above 

Thy kind ! From the beginning to the end 

Thou seest men distinguished from the paths 

Wherein they follow leaderships unseen 

To fancied points unseen — with pity's eye 

Thou seest. Thus Xerxes saw the movement vast 

Of multitudes in whom survival's check, 

He knew, too well, was the green turf on which 

They trod — the earth that bore them would reclaim 

Them dead. Where then the music of their tones? 

Where then each beauty and its sorcery? 



74 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Where then pre-eminence with honors cloyed, 
Yet, selfish, reaching out for more ? — But ere 
The leveling time doth come, unto thyself 
Austere, who speaketh little, thinketh more, 
Prevaileth thou like a magician skilled, 
Discreet, in weaving into thy strange web 
Of destiny such colors of thyself 
As make it strong and beautiful : and in 
The furrows of thy years the seed is cast. 
To gamer when the month of harvest comes 
Sheaves of thy pow'rs, ere Autumn seals with cold ;- 
And thou art blessed. Old Age ! 



BEAUTY. 



'T^IS Beauty that makes music to the march 

Of life, and makes men feel as victors ere 
A victory's won. She doth inspire that which 
We know not of, but which emotions mould 
Into an apprehension rare, and make 
It strong and confident; and of that which 
Doth harmonize with peace, until it makes 
The territory of our happiness 
Extend so far it heaven seems to meet 
In horizontal calm. 

Inhabits she 
The sky, the earth, the sea, the breast of man, 



BEAUTY. 75 

With aught attuned to poesy in all 
Her moods, profound yet simple in her means 
Well used, as fleeting as the rainbow's tints; 
As tranquil as the trees of tropic woods; 
As changeful as the billows of deep seas ; 
As lasting as immortal spirit, where 
Purposes flourish, bearing seed and fruit. 
Turning melancholy to hopefulness, 
Her presence 's ever felt but never seen. 

Her own salvation is enduring truth ; 
Infusing it into choice Nature's works, 
Unfolds she them into a vital form, 
Its color virtue, and its odor soul, 
And gives new glory to old worldly things. 
In meadow's haze upon a warm June day 
Of themes romantic to artistic minds 
She speaks, as if behind a golden veil, 
With language deep from her intuition keen. 

Ling'ring by the shore of idleness, 
Praying that Triton may, as once of yore. 
Blow his shell-trumpet, giving earnestness 
Unto our frames that we may go abroad 
To vanquish in accordance with that which 
Holds beau-ideals of what heroic is. 
We think of Beauty, Aphrodite's birth. 
And thinking, dream with double pleasure evermore. 



76 CLASSICAL POEMS. 



AURORA. 



A URORA, thou with man must sympathize; 
I deem that love is in thy light; it comes 
Adown the East on slopes dew-spangled o'er, 
As if a dove from heaven's lofty haunt. 
If so — for otherwise how could it be? — 
A certain knowledge of the truth would give 
Fresh life, fresh faith, fresh aims unto my mind 
Of maiden thoughts. Sojourning here below 
Awhile, birth comes but once, we pause a term, 
Then wander through the gloom to thee. 'T is thus 
On Roman soil I breathe and hear the flow 
Of Tiber ever in my ear, and so 
My feelings flow within the channel small 
Of present sense, and wish for bounds more wide. 
Meanwhile, I consecrate myself to thee, 
To live, to hope, to have secluded joys 
And bHthely to attune my inner self 
To tranquility. When the woods are green, 
The fields adorned with blooms as red as wine, 
The brooklets sprightliest with Summer sounds. 
Then seems a special benediction comes 
From thee to me. There's alchemy within 
Thy presence, turning dross to gold. The Earth 
Feels it with buoyancy ; for lo ! she knows 
Thou comest to bestow that which makes rich 
Her o'er and o'er — yea, richer far than all 
We know of Elysium, she dowered is. 
Making the gods with envy look at her. 



AURORA. 77 

Then, too, beholding upward at an hour 

When clouds besprinkle rain upon the hill, 

They glow, approaching thee, as if they sent 

Strange incense from a shrine to thee supreme; 

And when the rainbow steals athwart, it is 

Thy glory, and it is felicity 

To deem ^olus lulls his winds awhile 

To murmur music to thy ear. No less 

Is fancy moved (for fancy doth create 

What it loves best) to deem, when harvest days 

Come with their Southern warmth, Ceres uplifts 

Her features potent with expressiveness. 

Observing for awhile with kindling eyes, 

As if with rapture mute, next turns to praise 

Thee for thy silver store inspiring that 

To grow which is her cherishment. Then, too, 

Pomona mild, among thy gifts the flow'rs, 

List'ning serenely to the chirp that comes 

From near some aerial nest by branches borne. 

As if a lucid spirit spoke to her 

Of innocence. Slowly she treads, nor heeds 

The thorns that would her peplus tear ; busy, 

As is her wont, she finds repose in toil. 

And dreams in harmony with mellow hours 

That woo her grapes to ripen. Flushed her cheek; 

With intuitions years have amplified 

She Nature reads, discerning what instils 

The mind with traits not native to itself. 

But are adapted from the sphere of spheres. 

Hence she through Nature feels the motherhood 



78 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Of light, of warmth, of life with super-sense 
(That in our language human lacks the means 
Of speech divine), and on thee, Aurora, looks 
With a reverential concern. — If meet 
For both a goddess and a nymph to see 
Thee thus, how well in beings less to pay 
Oblation from the temple of themselves. 
That would amend and elevate ideas 
From earth to heaven, there to find thee still. 
E'er ceaseless in thy blissfulness, and feel 
Impressions high rewarding moral pains ! 
Ah, me ! thy blissfulness supernal, e'er 
In youthfulness.I Ah, me! there's mysticism 
• Confronting with its outlines ominous, 
And backs would rather faces be, and scan 
Past's light than future's dark — uncertainty 
To come, the which to meet, we creatures frail 
Excite belief with a false faith to keep 
Life's purpose roused. Withal, pure consciousness 
Ennobles our desires. Turning to thee, 
A sweetness and a patience in thyself 
Assure somehow of favors yet to come 
From thee — not echoes of mere joys, but joys 
Themselves unto the mood enamoring — 
And soothes contentment anxiety o'er fate. — 
Thy spell Tithonus felt; requesting life 
Of thee, he dwelt within a change by law. 
Yet not exempted from the change himself. 
He reached age old, with it decline. Then long 
He moaned, as one in darkness cast and hci I, 



ADVERSITY. 79 

Unto the distant light of fabled isles, 
Bearing decrepid limbs with wrinkles bound, 
His woe not youth perpetual. He witnessed 
In dawn's streaked gray bewild'ring to chikVs eyes, 
Thy sunny locks and smiling countenance, 
Thy beauty and alacrity, whilst pouring dew 
And spreading flow'rs as emblems of thyself — 
Unchanged in peerless radiance (but, Oh ! 
Him seeing, and deploring him !) thou wert 
The type of what he wished to be, but, ah ! 
Was not ! Still it appears thy heart's own fires, 
Celestial-kindled at the hearth of Time, 
Must have in far reserves for him and us 
(Immortals proving with due worth) that which 
Inspires in part with what thou- art thyself. 



ADVERSITY. 



D 



O 'fragile blooms, o'ercome by midnight storm, 
Retire to grieve when rains assail their form ? 
Does Spring grow pale when checked by Time to know 
She cannot beauteous Summer's path down go ? 
Ah, no ! — the blooms the cruel drops perfume, • 
And Spring robes Time from her adorning loom. 
Why is it, man, that thou art false and frail 
When Fate debars or daunts thy days assail? 



So CLASSICAL POEMS. 



FATE AND PROPHECY. 

TX7HEN hoary Autumn spreads upon the mould 

Loose leaves of russet mixed with streaks of gold, 
Grim Boreas, god-like, blows South a cloud, 
As trees in sudden pangs do moan aloud. 
Will words of omen waive the course of things — 
Deny that Summer warm, on zephry wings, 
Will give calm joy to counterpoise this bale? 
Ah, Fate will prove those words an aimless tale. 



MAY. 



TTTITHIN a hall are placed a rare display 

Of prints of nymphs and graces known of old; 
Some with thought strive, others with fancy play; 

One by a niche impresses once beheld, 
Showing a Queen's bygone pastoral tlirone, 
As broken roses are about her strown. 

II. 

A woman's beauty is upon her face; 

The spirit's dignity still lingers there; 
Three lambs beside her one another chase 

Each moment's happiness surcharged to share, 



THE SYBARITE. 8l 

As rests a shepherd on a mossy mound, 
Breathing quaint harmony's Arcadian sound. 

III. 

Beside him near some meadow blooms invite 

Admiration with dewy splendor mute ; 
Under them close, within a leaf-wrought night. 

Are belle-formed buds, each robed within a suit 
Of finery, all breathing Lydian air, 
That would have him Pan-like to linger there. 

IV. 

His life not vexed by dull or dolesome cares; 

His peace perpetual, free from battle-harm ; 
His friendship's sympathies not knowing snares; 

His bosom's depth afire with love's warm charm ! — 
Oh, could his notes be heard, thus honor May, 
Who from her Southern zone comes forth to-day! 



THE SYBARITE. 



T ET him in a mountain home 

List to mid-day-buzzing, 

List to water rushing. 
Breathe the airs that mildly, mildly roam, 

Scented with the gathered flowery treasure 

From the golden glens of ideal pleasure. 



CLASSICAL POEMS. 



II. 



Let calm Summer after Spring 

Rule this sphere of green 
With a queenly mien, 
Hygeia by her side well-stored to bring 
Scarlet colors to the cheek, akin 
To a peacefulness ensouled within. 

III. 

Let the frontage of a villa 

View in prospects wide 

Beauty glorified — 
Dales and fields of bobbing clover gay. 

As the tinkling bells of kine emerge 

From the distant hill-top's beck'ning verge. 

IV. 

Let beguiling butterflies 

(Each with color bright 

Like a spangled sprite)- 
Ramble 'mong non-seeming entities; 

And the lords of maiden roses, bees, 

Lull their loves to sleep with more than human ease. 

v. 

Let him in a bow'r outspread, 

Crowned with clustered shapes 

Of empurpled grapes, 
Feel the coming South, unheralded, 

Breathe on thicket-buds her path before, 

Them unfolding hanging frailly o'er. 



THE BIR'IH OF VENUS. 83 

VI. 

Let him hearken to a song, 

With a tone endowed 

Rare of music loud 
(Such as Echo's voice could ne'er prolong), 

And a flow of fragile-throated words 

From a choir of tropic-plumed birds. 

VII. 

Let him hie, O goal, to thee — 

Far from civic-sound, 

Hie to grandeur round — 
There to dwell awhile, nor fail to see 

Things of hope that well the fancies please, 

Like a dream-born realm o'er dream-born seas. 



THE BIRTH OF VENUS. 



TOEHOLD the sea! a distant shape appears 
Within a cloudlet fading from the view. 
As if to seek the morn's exalted spheres 

To clothe itself with their cerulean hue ; 

Ere long with outlines fixed, in mist seen through, 
The shape becomes distinct, and overhead 
yEolus tunes his harp and symphonies are spread. 



84 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

II. 

Behold again ! It is a mermaid queen 
Just slowly leaving her secluded home 

Of coral walls, submerged with drowsy green, 
As by it sea-blooms grow. At will to roam. 
She moves upon the free, unstable foam 

(As by her feet dolphins and nereids swim). 

After a night, perhaps, of spectral dreamings dim. 

III. 

Her movements on the deep induce surprises; 
Gladly would knowledge learn the mystery 

That round her throws a glamour of surmises; 
Full strange as aught that in fore-ages be 
Appears this form emerging from the sea, 

Decked with red dulse, to flutter to and fro. 

To stand with human weight, yet not sink downward low. 

IV. 

Ah, no! — not human she! What impulse high 
Upon her brow pours an affluent par 

Like vesper orb ! What pow'rs occult apply 
Their sorcery, so pregnant with a heart, 
To rule her countenance! O peerless Art, 

Couldst thou on canvas large, in colors bold. 

Once let the pond'ring mind her being true behold! 

v. 

Observe! — a goddess now appears she there. 

The surges o'er where maketh sun-sheen tender 
A chaster glow, she rises up in air, 



POMONA. 85 

Impearled about and robed in humid splendor — 
What graceful movements wields her figure slender! 

Once more observe — she fades in height away. 

Alack! what speculation could her bourn portray? 



POMONA. 
I. 

■pOMONA known of old 

Among the citron groves, the purple swell 
Of grapes, the wholesome olives manifold, 
Hast thou denied coy-like thy wondrous spell 
• This our fair Western World of freedom's hold 

II. 

Ah, no! — thou art anear. 
Nor Greece nor Rome with its climatic might 

Could well compare with what thy fruitage-year 
Pours down before Nature's admiring sight 

Upon the landscapes of tliis hemisphere. 

III. 

Forthwith" behold around: 
What ranged profusion! What resplendent sway! 

The tree crowned hills triumphant o'er the ground 
Where valley verdure shows a like display 

Of myriad treasures that in buds abound! 

IV. 

She with discerning hand 
Has caused each growth its blossoms to unfold — 



S6 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

The brimming sap well upward to expand 
To reach betime the coming apples gold — 
Rich clustered globes within a pendent land ! 

V, 

What wealth to her foreseen 
Will be in August days of honey-bees, 

Hived by the blooms in drowsy orchards green, 
Where she in umbrage may command a breeze 

Offspring odors from their warm mothers wean ! 

VI. 

O happy birds, indeed ! 
Among gay blossoms on surrounding trees, 

Craving ere formed on cherries lush to feed! 
O happy birds so careless in your ease ! 

Melodious prophets of your. Summer need! 

VII, 

Be ye but mouths to chant 
To her some sober phrases from each heart; 

Her magnify with fancy jubilant ; 
Next let her dwell before, like work of art 

In ideal musings, e'er in dreams extant. 

VIII. 

'T is well for you to deem 
That she is mystic, like Queen Mab of yore; 

That she prevails within each silent scheme 
Of ancient mystery that hues fruit-store 

For you, divulging gloss o'er streaks of gleam. 



MY LADY. 87 

MY LADY. 



MY Lady rules supreme. Her golden reign 
Is where mild Summer haunts from year to year ; 

Indeed, it is a half-seraphic sphere. 
There birds sing joy's immaculate refrain 
Her lattice by her daily heed to gain ; 

There bees, on tribute bent, in hives anear 

Store comb by comb of honey fresh and clear; 
There Nature {\oy^\ subject she) pours grain 
From harvest fields into her granary— 

In fact, all wealth is hers that Fortune holds. 
But this is dross placed by her sympathy, 
Imbued with woman's classic potency. 

That oft men's moods with sternest thoughts embolds. 
Therefore, 'tis meet to cry, "Long live. Your Majesty!" 



II. 



My lady plays a lute within a bower. 

What strange excelling harmony hereby 

That moves throughout the garden ! Not to sigh 
Inclines with weary drooping form each flower, 
But stands as if inspired by some warm shower. 

Two turtle-doves their flying wings apply 

About her person, eager to espy 
Her seated 'mong green leaves a queen of power. 
Thou harmony bear forth thy spirit life ! 

Thy tones are fraught with meaning to impress 



88 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

With truer traits of courage than are rife 

When feast-hummed music breathes at night excess; 
Yet they her well denote above heart-strife — 

A thing of peace enthroned in loveliness. 

III. 
My Lady lives within a scene of bliss : 

A Paradise within a Southern zone ; 

A simple bow'r established for her throne 
Among rare roses that each other kiss ; 
Where all things seem endowed with that and this 

To tinge deep senses with a dreamy tone ; 

Where calm eternal is with force unknown 
To aid grim Time in his ancient service. 
My Lady has a pow'r somewhat akin 

To that of Time among her roses rare ; 
Though less her might, yet her meek features win 

Bold breasts of men to find a secret there, 
That makes a Paradise themselves within, 

They gaining from this source life's golden share. 

IV. 

My Lady is a being crowned among 

Transcendent things within an Aidenn goal, 
And to them she's at times a guardian soul 

(Like Flora of the grove), with mystic tongue 

To minister to wants of blossoms young. 
Their Hfe's her life, so subtile to control 
Their virtures till they form a part, then whole 

Of her enchantment all about her sprung. 

But she the hearts of strong-limbed men doth sway 



AT SEA. 89 

With art as fine. They feel her touch, and know 
The source whence she 's inspired ; they to her pay 

A homage with their manhood all aglow, 
And on her shrine a wreath of laurel lay, 

Nor care from her in worldly ways to go. 

V. 

The pow'r that animates My Lady's face, 

Madonna-like, contains a-something rare 

Preferable to arts of courteous care, 
Which oft denote a false or borrowed grace. 
When she is on her throne above our race 

Her words are pregnant with deep wisdom's share, 

Leading each hearer calmly unaware 
Up step by step to Life's Platonic place. 
Hence hope conceives a final, blessedness 

From thought of her. She law creates within 

That are as ties to make the heart akin 
To her pure soul. O heart ! move on no less 
That earth's dark roads are crooked to excess, 

By her high Life's Platonic place to win. 



AT SEA. 



/COMRADES, upon the deep, not shoreward now; 

It is a port where Life and Death e'er meet; 
Oh, let our vessel veer with idle prow ! 

Let worms feed there — the harvest is replete. 



90 



CLASSICAL POEMS. 



n. 



Things time-worn have their exit over-soon ; 

Then why should we aflush with labor doom 
Ouselves to shore ere prime of afternoon? 

Let naught of youthful zeal our day consume. 



III. 



Heed not the tide that becks toward the shore ; 

It shines Uke rolling shields of silver hue ; 
'Tis a decoy, the fancy vexed to store 

With images destructive to pursue. 



IV. 



Rather stay here and drowse upon the flow, 

Where move the demon dangers round in stealth. 

Where hungry sharks now seek in depths below 

The drowned man's bones among his rock-wrecked wealth. 



Let us pause long. There's virtue borne by men 
That mocks at haste. Let some supernal boon, 

As off our days retire and come again. 

Thought's movements to a pleasure slow attune. 

VI. 

Or let our pilot there, with pagan heart, 
The'Present make a god, to be beguiled 

To follow luck where'er it may impart 
Rare harmony from some JEo\mn wild. 



THE CAGED BIRD. 91 



VII. 



With petrel wings we'll pass the haunting storm, 
We'll breathe equator air, know tropic calms, 

W^e'll anchor by the coral islet's form, 

We'll feel the joy of wondrous Southern calms. 



VIII. 



No struggles weary-wise that may give bane ; 

Life's systems fall below their models rare ; 
Why seek the depths or heights with turmoils vain ? 

Why seek the night when day is everywhere ? 



THE CAGED BIRD. 



XTTHAT yearnings vain and emulative fire 

Thy tones express ! 
Thou wouldst gain mountain heights with pure desire 

The pilgrim's soul in valley of distress 

To bathe with flood of sound of warmest tenderness; 



II. 



Or maiden lone, love lurking in her eyes, 

Busy with dreams. 
Whose spell supreme conducts romantic-wise 

To realms remote, where life's commingling streams. 
In currents deep and clear, have wondrous gleams o'er 
gleams ; 



92 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

III. 

Or youth within his thought's broad soUtude, 
To broodings prone, 

Yet with ambition's longings stern imbued, 
Renown to reach, hill-dwelling and alone. 
Who beckons him to climb with loud triumphant tone. 

IV. 

Poor foolish bird ! — thou dupe to wretched fancies ! — 

If thou wert free 
Thy cherishings would die as do June's pansies — 

Too soon thy fervid music broken be. 

Like mermaid melody in a chaotic sea. 

V. 

Then let repining cease, voluble bird! 
More bitter seem 

Thy thoughts than draughts from quassia-cup — they curd 
The outward flow of flattery — to deem 
Thee without full desert prevents a full esteem. 

VI. 

Lightly arise to sing of happy things 
Life's charities. 

With harmony's impulse v/ell know the springs 
Of vital force and of effective ease. 
But e'er, like Apollo's lute, have a tone please. 

VII. 

Let not thy spirit's false forebodings see 
Fate that alarms : 



THE ROYAL ROAD. 93 

Though a prisoner, yet king-thoughted be, 

Thy realm To-morrow, free from gorgon-harms, 
Full to the brilliant verge of Time's selected charms 



THE ROYAL ROAD. 



A WINDING road conducts down to a glen, 
About whose sides some cavern depths allure 
With hall-like passages, wherein the ken 

Beholds a smoothness for the footsteps sure ; 
Conducts by vines and shrubs with vivid dyes, 
To fields that fill the mind with strange surmise. 

II. 
Here soil's rare plants in true succession reign ; 

Here damask-roses court the roaming breeze ; 
Here rock-formed hollows show a mineral vein ; 

Here spread profusion tempts the hand to seize ; 
Onward lead paths, paved with a pebbly mass, 
To growths of shade as fresh as April grass. 

III. 
Seat of enjoyment, of serenity! 

You hold the few who shepherd-fike adore 
The guidance of supernal mystery ; 

Who know so well what pathway to explore; 
Who lead their flocks, on wholesome pasture bent, 
To hilly heights where naught is imminento 



94 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

IV. 

You hold the few who seek the Summer reign 
Of warmth and growth ; you well extend an aid 

To mortals prone to seek superior gain, 
Which elevates above the haunting shade 

Of brick-and-mortar towns; no busy days 

Impose their troubles in their divers ways. 

v. 

Here Virtue is demure ; there 's Health, whose hair 
Sports round enduring blushes ; near is Hope, 

With secret presence in her wizard air; 
Patience reclines upon a mossy slope, 

And now she reads absorbed, and now she dozes ; 

Some are beguiled as humor them disposes. 

VI. 

Here Youth, imbrowned with tan, moves quickly by; 

Enters Manhood Wisdom's secluded cell ; 
Energy near is ready forth to hie ; 

Courage before leads to a rugged dell ; 
And patriarchal Age, his dame beside. 
Goes to and fro — contentment typified! 

VII. 

Possesses each a vista clear before ; 

Each knows to use those boons by Time bestowed : 
Each summons up his courage to explore 

The broad Beyond upon the Royal Road 
Of earth, with purposes which generate 
A love of calm, of truth, of final fate. 



THE A P PI AN IV AY. ' 95 



THE APPIAN WAY. 



T^HE Way eternal is; though some remote 
Consider it — not so! — in every sphere 
It is, combining with itself the note 

Of song above with sehse of what is here, 
To help thought up to noblest altitude, 
To find that peopled deemed a solitude. 

II. 

The Way leads forward through an arbored aisle 
Of bearing vines, whose stems are decked with fruit 

Worthy a king's choice flasket ; where to while 
Their hours oft vintagers resort when hoot 

Grave owls ; when Night, shade-mantled, comes to mourn 

About the hills with mellow-noted horn. 

III. 
The Dawn beholds a few who tread the Way, 

Their heed engaged upon a point on high 
They've heard of oft, and certain to display 

Outlines at last consoling to the eye. 
So on they push, hardships to undergo, 
Their end to gain, as summits o'er them glow. 

IV. 

Index-boards here and there, with festoons wrought 
Into arising verdant coils, up guide ; 
• As hill-born brooklets, with their sparkles fraught. 



g6 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Spread forth mild flowage that down channels glide; 
A high flamingo flies, in scarlet furled, 
As if emerging from dim Afric's world. 



Still upward leads the Way. The airy hall 
Of Morn no equal has for such a life ! 

From concord-breathing glens issues a call 

And tells of sylvan bounds with shepherds rife ; 

Next sounds commingle far, and mildly roll 

Like spirit-joys proceeding to a goal. 

VI. 

Delay not near that hillock green and trim 
Briefly to recognize those buds serene ; 

They to much worth espoused conceive a whim 
To shy from sight and be as things unseen ; 

But yonder push to that excelling seat 

With other hours than man's from yore replete. 

VII. 

There's calm about within an area vast 
To make the bosom with reflections glow 

Most fit to form impressions to outlast 

Mere musings of a moment's come and go; 

A calm to plant those sterling traits within 

That rise until to stable strength akin. 

VIII. 

There are events combined with sober day 
In sohtude among deep forest boughs, 



THE STATUE. 97 

Where spirits seem to hover and delay, 

To murmur of a now that Time endows; 
To bid ambition forthwith know repose — 
Body and soul their opposition close. 

IX. 

There wayfarers remain ; averse they feel 
Unto experience prior, most prone to press 

Them from those earnest studies that reveal 
The latitude of higher consciousness — 

A succor pleasing, seen of that without 

Which them contrived to keep in years of doubt. 



THE STATUE. 



TTPON a worldly highway was a stone 

Of marble smooth that long forgotten lay 
The Winter frigid claimed it for its own. 

Impressing blots for Time to wash away ; 

The Summer torrid, with a fickle sway. 
Blew rain or dust upon it noon by noon 
Until it seemed a corse denied a burial boon. 

II. 

Great throngs of people journeyed to and fro : 

Philosophers with wisdom in their mien; 
Merchants, some scowling, others all aglow ; 



98 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Soldiers off duty, easy and serene ; 

Heroes, statesmen, each with ambition keen ; 
Lawyers, artists, scholars ; beggars beside 
Bankers and nobles spurring horses eager-eyed. 

III. 

In all this multitude not one down cast 

. A look of sympathy upon the stone; 

It was a relic from a distant past 

Endowed with form, although but slightly shown 
(Like a body with a soul to beauty prone). 

For Art to shape unto a semblance new 

That would suggest to man an ideal meaning true. 

IV. 

A youth demure of penetrative strain 
Beheld the marble pariah. His breast. 

Exalted by ambition's wise disdain 

Of hours misused, long felt its plight unblest; 

Next schemes and dreams disturbed his nights of rest; 

He strived for strength to wrestle from its doom 

A monitory form a mission to assume. 



At last, surrounded by a doubting tribe, 

He wrought with chisel-chippings on the stone; 

Advisements held he often to imbibe 
From pufest elements of self a tone 
To mark the image with a seeming own 

Of goodness, beauty, united to a charm. 

To woo a busy world from evil's mighty harm. 



THE STA'J'UE. gg 



VI. 
Time aftor time he labored at his task ; 

Denied himself the pleasures of the throng, 
As some, perhaps with gibes, would stop to ask 

Pointless questions, next smile and deem him wrong; 

His earnest will was adequately strong, 
Nor swerved a day — most like a growing oak 
That firmly stood when stormy mock'ries o'er it broke. 

VII. 

Behold ! a shape at last was there in view; 

A figure formed from strokes of firmest will ; 
It seemed a being noble through and through — 

A something rare to waken and to thrill 

With face benign, and fitted to instil 
Deep tongueless thoughts with dialect of art 
Well known to those who speak the language of the heart. 

VIII. 

Anon a square pedestal he contrived ; 

Beside its base minutest germs were strown, 
That grew to buds and next as flowers thrived ; 

And then the form he heaved with brawny skill 

Up to its place superior on a hill ; 
Around the whole a guardian hedge was thrown, 
Watchful to prick with thorns the reckless finger-bone. 

IX. 

He next upon the smooth pedestal cut, 
"Una ! " that all the people might behold 
Through it one whom they had to slavery put : 



lOO CLASSICAL POEMS. 

A maid unworthy of their ways of gold — 
A doe within a boa's devouring fold — 
A head downcast — a voice to utter wee — 
A door unhinged to creak, world-winds assailed it so. 

X. 

The statue, standing by the highway wide, 
With right extended arm directed feet 

Toward a narrow road diverging, spied 
Afar connected with a cool retreat, 
Where laurels rose about a temple's seat ; 

Where deep recesses near denoted life, 

Secure from din, with wholesome fruitage rife. 

XI. 

There day by day to point pale Una stood. 
As on her gleams descended from the blue ; 

There night by night, dimmed by vicissitude 
(For thunder-storms hid stars and off withdrew), 
The flow of life she sought with effort true 

To move from gloom a sunshine to attain — 

To roll in channels right to seek truth's main. 

XII. 

The multitude, oft mingling to and fro. 
With curious ken the noble figure viewed ; 

With steps indifferent some faltered, though 
They with its meaning failed to be imbued; 
The mass went to a city murky-hued; 

Yet none, alas ! unto the temple near. 

Its green repose amid an Eden atmosphere. 



THE ISLAND. lOI 

XIII. 

From a wilderness afar a demon came, 
By Ufia grinned a dismal hour or more, 

Until she seemed to tremble through her frame, 
Hence to his goal his awkward aspect bore. 
In turn an angel from the azure o'er 

Came meekly down, and in her shadow shed 

A tear of condolence before she homeward sped. 

XIV. 

The youth, now grown to manhood prime, retired 
To spend his days within the temple nigh. 

To dedicate himself to moods inspired ; 
Leaving the statue in neglect, to lie 
A cumbrous ruin stretched the highway by — 

Its pieces vain confusedly at large, 

An easy prey for Age of burial means in charge. 



THE ISLAND. 



A PART from worldly schemes that often mar, 
Or give ambition but a passing shade ; 
Apart from plights that noble aims debar, 
And leave self low self higher to degrade : 
O'er such supreme the Fancy, prone to roam. 
Now leads to limits formed for souls who turn from home. 



I02 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

An isle it is within a foreign sphere, 

Enriched by Truth ; where Goodness has all day, 
Where Evil has no night. To deem it near 

'Tis ease, and strange beguilement to portray— 
This air-born picture coming slowly to instil. 
With sheen touched o'er not native to art's human skill. 

II. 

There is a meadow with a river by ; 

Cygnets and water-fowls move to and fro; 
Barges and barks with silken sails supply 

Beguiling rides as odored breezes blow, 
As vestal Echo to the ear affords, 
From rocky bourns remote, her sylvan-sounding words. 

There are smooth paths of shade beside the stream ; 

These scholars screen who turn to banks to muse ; 
Or converse hold in groups on some apt theme ; 

Or to light ways inclined a number choose 
To watch the cygnets on the current slow 
Kissing the eddies clear that to their bosoms flow. 

III. 

There is a grove whose verdure low and high 
Shelters the feathered nest from noontide glows. 

The many hymns of birds address the sky ; 
How happy-throated the harmony flows ! 

The Day ensouled the inspiration feels, 

And throbs as does a nun when she to prayer steals. 



THE ISLAND. 103 

Here flowers wild in bushy settlement 

Regal affairs conduct in courtly state; 
But some with eyes idolatrous upbent 

Implore a shade above, as if of late 
A juggling god within a cloud of gold 
Had rained down magic hues their petals to unfold. 

IV. 

Thickets of palm excel with smooth retreats ; 

Near orange groves their golden fruitage drop; 
Hedges of figs unmask their seeded sweets ; 

Stand trees in rows, each has a burdened prop, 
O'er which hang blossoms white, and fall below 
Into the lap of earth, like flakes of Autumn snow. 

Vineyards abound where grapes from coverts peep 
Each cluster rare immures the coming wine ; 

It yearns to break the .purple walls, to leap 
Into bright bowls,, and gayly to combine 

Itself with noise, joyance and festal song, 

To charm the palate with its spirit keen and strong. 



A road leads here and there. The distant ways 
Are broadly spread. The bees their sweets imbibe 

Within the girdle of a valley's maze. 

Where butterflies, a Gypsy, careless tribe, 

Range in the circle of an aerial calm, 

Free from urchin ardor pursuing to impalm. 



104 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

A field within the vale bears bearded corn ; 

Another oaks, where plays with music true 
A brook about a bank, on which adorn 

The azure cups of buds bedecked with dew, 
Or blooms most bright, there dropped by hand unseen 
Of warm-breathed South when once she faltered o'er the 
scene. 

VI. 

Beyond are forest-trees aflush with life ; 

The sun appears them calmly to observe. 
Within their shades what subtile airs are rife i — 

An indescribable, unique reserve — 
A mysterious instinct of earth that clothes 
Itself in robes of green encrowned with heaven's glows. 

It is a forest huge — a choice supreme, 

In which a Diana might hap to ride 
At noon upon a steed out-breathing steam; 

Or blow her horn ; or deem that were beside 
The hamadryads — deem that they her viewing 
Would pallid turn forthwith, their envy her pursuing. 

VII. 

Another spot is gained. See hedges old 

Where osiers bear their heavy burdens well; 

Hear torrent-murmurs far, all downward rolled. 
That mingle with the tinkles of a bell; 

Mark offspring mounts, evoking sweet surprise, 

Some seen with humble huts arranged companion-wise. 



THE ISLAND. 105 



The smoke arises from those moss-roofed haunts. 

There dwell those who in routines rural go; 
They breathe and wonder, knowing not the daunts 

Of spendthrift hopes that men impov'rish so ; 
On homebred things they daily place their mind, 
And bid to civil arts their eyes be half-purblind. 



VIII. 



Anon is seen a youth hard by a tree; 

He wields a pipe; within his meadow-sphere 
He pours a tone of happy harmony. 

By him five lambs are subjects of his cheer; 
They move aloof, their strength to exercise. 
But backward come ere long his sounds to idolize. 

Hard by a garden choice of mixed perfumes 

Invites a maiden form to move around 
Its labyrinths; she gleans rare crimson blooms 

And weaves them into wreaths. Something profound 
Upon her brow depicts pure thoughts within, 
And speaks of her as one to tender things akin. 

IX. 

Beside a road well sheltered from the heat, 
By rows of ancient oaks, with passive air, 

A marble lion is; between its feet 
A lamb reposes — lo ! a happy pair! 

A chiseled figure crowned with heaven's rays, 

Whereon the hand of Age no Vandal mark displays. 



io6 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

A fane not far is by thick laurel shades; 

There Priestess Peace imparts her truth to guide; 
A composure demure within her aids 

To hold each one a student at her side; 
Her speech as potent is; both join to give 
A store of thoughts that eke, once eked show how to live. 

X. 

A group stands where the fane its shadow throws; 

Their features grave are with expressions fraught; 
They talk of wealth, of Time's most true repose, 

Of worldly goods with wasted efforts bought, 
Of specious hopes that urge aspiring man 
His life's allotted date with restless years to span. 

Yet hold they that a pow'r, although not known. 
Upward from birth deep minds to aid surround. 

Infusing day by day a dreamy tone. 

That moves each one to something vague, profound, 

Whereby he may sojourn in castles rare. 

In foreign regions true, yet naught material there. 

XI. 

NestUng within a glen ascending back 

To mountain roads and wild and lofty seats, 

A little town is by a shoreward track; 

Here house near house confronts three broad-laid streets, 

Where sailors dwell, a stern and humble class. 

Who half their rugged years upon the ocean pass. 



BEFORE AND AFTER THE VOYAGE. 107 

Sea-fowls contend with wind and water, prone 

To bathe their feathers in a briny bay ; 
Agile and reckless, pleasure is their own, 

Nor do they it abuse with vain delay, 
But homeward hie betime among cliffs bare, 
Where climbing vines alone approach their refuge rare. 

XII. 

Throw forth the gaze afar above the wave, 
Where mullets gay and golden fishes roam ; 

Where sea-nympths once upswelled ('tis said) to lave 
Their hair's redundance in the hoary foam ; 

An eager fleet now comes, with gathered might 

From balmy winds, to reach this island of delight. 

Between small isles, on which are cypress spires, 
They come, emerging from a current wide, 

From a great world of dearth and foiled desires, 
That strips men bare of all aspiring pride ; 

Where motley throngs of anxious people go 

Confusedly around a huge, delusive show. 



BEFORE AND AFTER THE VOYAGE. 



A/jTY argosy, go seek strange Fortune's main ; 
There in far voyage hail an island shore; 
There let thy crew the island depths explore, 
In earth's deep mine dislodge bright golden grain 



io8 CLASSICAL POEMS. 

Wherewith to forge a pure, encircling chain ; 

Oh, bring me furthermore a floral store 

(Such as Pomona meek might half adore), 
Nice silks, quaint gauds and fruits of hybrid strain. 
Well would each largess charm Olivia dear. 

My argosy, hence of fresh sails make sure ; 

Prepare repehing dangers to endure — 
Surges' uproar at daybreak lacking cheer. 

But what are daunts by treasures to procure 
With which to grace her form without a peer ? 

II. 

My argosy's come home. What freight of ore ! 

What silks produced with craftsman's choicest skill ! 

What tropic blooms impressing with a thrill ! 
What fruits out-blushing fabled ones of yore ! 
Olivia fair, the sail these homeward bore 

That thou mightst turn their service to thy will. 

Yet be to all a sceptred presence still, 
Ruling with grace thy kingdom spreading more. 
But after all, this wealth seems not designed 

To give meet setting to thy woman's worth; 
And, too, appears at times the motive blind 

That would deck thee with what by thee is dearth 
For so endowed thy beauty and thy mind 

They simply move the world — 't was so from birth. 

THE END. 



